Therapy
by sneakyslytherin.severus
Summary: Hermione Granger is now 27, working as a psychologist in muggle London. Unhappily engaged to Ron, Hermione finds her own happiness by helping others manage their sadness. One day, however, Hermione's routine life is turned upside-down when a certain blonde Slytherin arrives at her office seeking a therapy session...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of these characters (except Miss Berkeley and other secondary characters) belong to me. They are all the product of JKR's wonderful imagination, and it is my privilege to write stories for them. :)

A/N: This is my first published fiction, so reviews and suggestions are super appreciated! ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter One: First Session

The day had started out as just a regular, quiet Tuesday. Miss Hermione Granger left her flat at around 7:30am in order to catch the tube into inner-city London, avoiding rush-hour crowding. Technically, she didn't need to be at her office until 8:30, but Miss Granger liked to order a black coffee and croissant at her favourite little café so that she could people-watch for a while. The people-watching was fun in itself, as London's eccentric and exotic population usually provided an entertaining view. However, Hermione was watching for another reason, a reason that she didn't even want to admit to herself.

She'd think, _That one looked like Professor Snape! _just before the person turned around, making it clear through his nose-piercing and tattoo that he was not, in fact, her deceased professor. Then a couple would walk by; an older man, stooped and slightly worn looking, holding the hand of a shorter exuberant girl with mousy brown hair. _Lupin and Tonks! _Hermione would think, almost getting out of her chair before the couple faced her. It's not like Hermione actually thought that she'd see her long-gone friends walking down the sidewalk, but that little spark of hope inside of her kept searching without the consent of her common sense.

On this particular Tuesday, Hermione had "seen" several of her friends, and was feeling very melancholy when she stepped out of the elevator onto her floor. Making a right, she walked down the hallway and opened the third door on the left that read "Dr. H. G. Jean, Psychologist". Hermione's secretary was already busily typing away at her desk, looking up only to smile and say "Good morning Dr Jean," before continuing with her work.

Hermione, however, wanted to talk. "Good morning Miss Berkeley, how are you feeling today?"

Miss Berkeley looked up again. "Much better than yesterday, thank you Dr Jean."

"Really dear, you must call me Hermione – how often do I have to remind you?" A smirk played over Hermione's lips.

Miss Berkeley blushed. "Sorry Dr J – I mean, Hermione."

"Much better." Hermione smiled before continuing through the door into her little office. It was a modest room, filled with light from several large windows. The furnishings consisted of a single, worn chair that Hermione used and much more comfortable sofa for her clients. A glass table lay between the sofa and chair, and a tall hat stand was immediately right of the door. Hermione hung her trench coat on the stand before she walked over to her chair and opened her briefcase.

According to her schedule she was seeing a new client first thing this morning, a Mr Komodo. _What an odd name_, Hermione thought. _He must be Japanese, or something..._

As Mr Komodo wasn't due to arrive until 8:45, Hermione pulled out her make-up bag for some quick touch-ups –first impressions were very important in her business. The small mirror Hermione held showed a truly sad sight; brown, frizzy hair pulled back into a severe (already slightly coming apart) bun, a mouth that seemed to be forever turned down at the corners despite her valiant efforts, and sad brown eyes surrounded by premature wrinkles, staring out at her from behind thick glasses. Hermione mentally shook herself. _Get out of this rut girl, you're better than this!_

Just then her intercom buzzed. "A Mr Komodo to see you Dr Jean."

Hastily, Hermione shoved the mirror and make-up back into her bag. "Thank you Miss Berkeley. Please show him in."

Hermione rose out of her chair and rushed to place her briefcase by the window. _Damn Granger, why couldn't you be more organized? _she thought.

The sound of the door opening caused Hermione to whirl around, a smile expertly placed on her face. "Good morning, Mr Komodo, I'm Dr Jean."

The figure entering the room was smartly dressed, wearing a grey three-piece suit and a grey fedora with a dark green band. His shoes were immaculately polished, and in his pale hand he held a long, black walking stick. Hermione strode forward to extend her hand, only to recoil in shock when Mr Komodo looked up and revealed his face. Her expression of shock was mirrored exactly in the grey-blue eyes of her newest client, his lips open in a small "o".

Hermione regained her composure first. "You!" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr Komodo" quickly replaced his shocked expression with his typical sneer. "I might ask the same of you, _Doctor Jean_. Posing as a muggle psychologist. What next, are you going to become a dentist like mummy and daddy?"

Panicked, Hermione looked past her client through the still-open door, attempting to see whether Miss Berkeley had heard Mr Komodo's not-so-quiet comment. "Get in here," Hermione hissed, reaching past the gentleman to close the door. "Miss Berkeley is entirely muggle, and I have no wish to obliviate the girl. For God's sake, keep your voice _down_!"

Hermione and the man just stared at one another for several moments, the animosity hanging in the air between the two. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she spat, "So, Mr Malfoy, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Draco Malfoy smirked at her. "Actually it's _Lord _Malfoy, Granger. Address me with the proper respect that I deserve."

"What little respect you deserve I have already given you, _Draco_, since I should have kicked you out of my office!" Hermione hissed.

Draco walked past her, swinging his cane. "Well actually, Granger, I paid for my session in advance. So, technically, you can't kick me out until my forty-five minutes have passed." When he reached the window, Draco removed his fedora and threw it so that it landed perfectly on the hat stand. "As much as I would like to get out of here as quickly as possible, Pansy will hex me if I don't follow through with this session."

When Hermione just stood by the door, anger still radiating off of her, Draco said, "Well, get a move on Granger! We haven't got all day!" before sitting down in Hermione's chair.

That was it for Hermione. "Get out of my chair, you cockroach!" she shouted. Draco had the good grace to look slightly afraid at this sudden outburst. "You waltz in here, pulling rank and criticizing my lifestyle, sauntering around like you own the place. Well, here's a shock for your pretty little blonde brain, this is MY room, MY session to organize, and MY life. So if you go sneaking around using a pseudonym just to scare your former classmates out of their wits that is FINE with me, but you are DONE playing with my mind Draco Malfoy!"

For a while there was silence. Neither one moved, neither one blinked, neither one seemed to breathe as they waited for the other to make the next move. A loud buzzing filled the office as the intercom suddenly turned on. "Um, Dr Jean?" Miss Berkeley's timid voice filled the office. "Is, erm, everything ok? I heard shouting."

Hermione shook herself before pressing the button and replying, "Yes, everything's fine Miss Berkeley. No need to worry."

Malfoy's eyes hardened as he stood proudly and walked over to the couch. Sitting down and sprawling across the leather sofa, Draco said, "Well played Granger. Now that you've...vented, can we actually start the session?"

Hermione's rage still radiated from her. "Right, of course _Mr Komodo_." She went and sat down in her (now vacated) chair, picking up her pencil and notepad from the glass table. "Let's start at the beginning then, shall we? Why did you feel the need to come in for this session?"

"Well, it wasn't my idea really," Malfoy drawled, swinging his feet over the side of the couch. oblivious to Hermione's aggression. "My girlfriend, Pansy – you know, Pansy Parkinson? She was our year – thinks that I'm acting "moody" and "not myself" lately, so, being an over-emotional girl she suggested that I go see a psychologist. Not my idea."

Hermione sighed. Obviously being angry wasn't making any sort of impression on Draco. "Alright Mr Malfoy –erm, Komodo...whatever. Why a _muggle _psychologist, and why this particular establishment? Last time I checked you were fairly against muggles of any sort."

Draco rubbed his hands over his face – a decidedly un-Draco-ish thing to do – before he answered. "My family's reputation precedes itself in the wizard world. Obviously you haven't been in Diagon Alley recently, but any Dark family – confirmed Death Eater or not – is refused service. Knockturn Alley has been shut down, and there's really nowhere else in the wizarding world for me to seek counsel. So, I saw your advertisement in the paper a week ago, and booked this appointment to get Pansy off my back."

"So," Hermione started, "you mean to say that you" – she jabbed her pencil in Draco's direction – "coming here" – she pointed the pencil back at herself – "was a complete accident?"

"Well it certainly seems that way," Draco said, looking exasperated. "I certainly didn't come here because of your stellar reputation. It was _impossible _to find this place you know..."

"Why the pseudonym?" Hermione interrupted, attempting to ignore the criticism. "Your name is notorious in the wizard world, but no muggle would recognize it."

Draco sighed. "The pseudonym is a precaution. The Ministry has been tracking every purchase, reservation, or order that any supposedly Dark wizard tries to make. By using the pseudonym I can come here without fear of a shadow, or worrying that the Ministry might find some way to deny me this right as well."

Hermione felt a remarkable surge of sympathy towards Draco. Was his life really that bad, that when he went out he couldn't even use his real name? "Why 'Mr Komodo', though? It seems rather random."

"I thought you were supposed to be clever, Granger," Malfoy smirked. "Draco is Latin for 'dragon', and there's a particularly deadly and interesting lizard known as the 'Komodo Dragon'. So, you see, not really random at all."

Hermione then felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. _Of course, how could I have missed that connection? You're getting slow in your old age, Granger_...

"And you? Your pseudonym, _Dr Jean_?" Malfoy asked.

"Granger isn't exactly a common name," Hermione pointed out. "I don't want to call unnecessary attention to myself, so I use my middle name as my last name."

"As interesting as this heart-to-heart may be," Malfoy interrupted rudely, "aren't you supposed to ask me "how I feel" about various personal questions detailing my life? See what my emotional responses tell you about my mental state?"

Sighing, Hermione answered "No, only the shrinks in movies do that. As this is your first session, we're just supposed to try and get to know each other, and let you see if you want to return for actual counselling."

"Ah," Draco said, "a testing session! Isn't this just wonderful! Too bad we know all about each other's lives already..."

"I highly doubt that!" Hermione interrupted. "You didn't know I was a muggle psychologist, did you? I'm sure there's lots I don't know about you."

"Touché Miss Granger, touché. Wait, is it Mrs Weasley? Have you actually married that ginger buffoon that you were so fond of?"

Hermione felt a headache coming on at the mere mention of Ron. "Erm, not exactly. We're engaged."

"Engaged?" Draco laughed. "The war ended almost ten years ago Granger, and if I recall correctly he proposed at the victory party. Why the long wait?"

Hermione started to ramble. "Well, I had to finish school, and Ron had to finish auror training, and now my business is just getting set up, and -"

"Ok, I don't need the whole bloody soap opera," Draco sneered. "One very important question, though; your fingers are remarkably bare. Where's the ring?"

A wave of nausea washed over Hermione. "Um, the ring?"

"Yes, you dunderhead, the ring," Draco sighed. "It's circular, usually has a gemstone in it? Is usually given by a male to a female when said male proposes?"

"Yes, yes, alright, no need to be rude," Hermione huffed. "Give me a moment." Getting up and walking back over to the window, she reached into the outer pocket of her briefcase and pulled out a ring. Unlike most engagement rings, this one did not have a diamond set in it; rather, there was a rather large, well-cut ruby in the center, with the image of a lion suspended within the red gem. The band was gold, the lettering circling it reading "Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart".

Hermione walked back over to Draco and handed it to him. "God, this is ugly. No wonder you don't wear it." Draco sniffed disdainfully at the offending piece of jewelry. "What was Weasleby thinking, getting you something like this? Wait, I forgot – Weasleby doesn't actually think."

"That was uncalled for, Malfoy," Hermione said, snatching up the ring. "Ron thinks a lot, actually. He has many positive qualities that you, obviously, have overlooked."

"I'm sure," Draco snorted. Hermione glared at him and she put the ring back in its hiding place and returned to her chair. "And what does the charming and glorious Ronald Weasley think of his future wife working in a muggle profession? Is he proud of his little bookworm?"

Hermione glared at Malfoy. The prospect of confession the reality of her situation to _Draco _was appalling, but it's not like she could lie... "Ronald dislikes my profession immensely, actually," she grumbled. "As soon as he gets promoted to be leader of his division, he wants me to quit and stay home to raise lots of Weasley babies." Hermione gasped. Had she actually just said that to _Malfoy_? She hadn't even voiced her discontent to Harry!

Rather than the cutting sarcastic remark that she was expecting, Hermione heard Draco say "That's rather unfair of him. You've obviously worked hard to get here."

"Well, yes. Thank you for noticing," she said quietly. Could Draco have really changed that much since their school days together?

"And, of course, the prospect of raising Weasley babies is rather terrifying," Draco continued.

Nope. He hadn't changed. He was the same old Draco. Hermione started tapping her pencil. "Alright, now you know too much about my life. Tell me about yours."

"Well you know, the usual," Draco began. "Social ostracization, frozen assets resulting in almost total bankruptcy, a girlfriend who's with me just because she, like myself, is a public enemy, and – I almost forgot the best part – being subjected to counselling because I am not the bubbly little first-year that everyone remembers from before the war."

Hermione had to try hard not to laugh at the image of Draco as a "bubbly little first-year". Soberly, she responded, "Well, the war changed everyone."

Draco laughed. "Some more than others, Granger. As far as I can tell you're still an insufferable know-it-all."

Already used to his harsh remarks, Hermione continued. "Under the post-war legislation, those acquitted of their crimes were to be reintegrated into society. I testified for you, as well as Harry and Ron. You should have gotten off scot-free."

"But that's not the way the world works, is it Granger?" Draco said, icily. "In theory everything is wonderful, but in practice nothing is ever perfect. If a shopkeeper doesn't serve you because he's "out of what you're looking for", or your stocks suddenly plummet because of "unfortunate circumstances", everything _seems _legitimate doesn't it? Just a run of bad luck. But at some point, that stops being luck, and starts being people getting back at what they believe is the face of evil."

Hermione grew quiet at this comment. "That's completely unfair. I'm...sorry."

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, since Malfoy's face contorted into a strange sort of angry grimace. "Oh, you're sorry, are you?" Draco sneered. "Why should you be sorry? You've got nothing to be sorry for, oh member of the Golden Trio." Hermione winced at that term. "What idiot came up with that name anyways? It makes you sound like some hero. You know what, nevermind."

Draco stood up suddenly, and stalked to the door, swinging his cane furiously. He grabbed his hat from the stand, opened the door, and slammed it behind him angrily.

Although her eyes were shut, Hermione heard Miss Berkeley trying unsuccessfully to slow Draco down. The slam of her outer door caused Hermione to sigh, and she put her head into her hands. That had gone well.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for your support so far! :-) :-) Reviews would still be super appreciated. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Two:

When Hermione went to work on Wednesday she was almost late. The night before she'd been so upset by her meeting with Draco that she'd forgot to set her alarm, and had woken up at eight. Then she'd had to deal with work rush-hour, crammed between strangers on the tube. By the time Hermione finally arrived at her office, she'd missed breakfast and looked like she'd been put through a printing press. Miss Berkeley was worriedly pacing around her office when Hermione arrived, and looked relieved to see her boss. "Dr Jean! I was so worried about you, you're usually here much earlier and I was about to go out and look..."

"It's alright Miss Berkeley, I'm fine," Hermione had said, feeling anything but fine. "Could you maybe fetch me a coffee from down the street, please?"

"Of course Doct-Hermione. Mister Ronald phoned, by the way Doctor," Miss Berkeley said quietly. "I wouldn't bother you with it, but he told me to tell you as soon as you came in. He sounded upset."

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. She and Ron had had a massive fight last night over the fact that Hermione was still living in her own flat, and not living with Ron. "Hermione, you really need to start acting like my wife!" Ron had said. "Harry's even doubting whether we're together any more, and that's not right. You're my girl, 'Mione."

"Oh, _your girl_ Ronald?" Hermione said, fuming. "What makes you think I'm a possession? I belong to no one, least of all you!" She had picked up her briefcase and walked out of Ron's dishevelled flat.

"Mione, get back here!" Ron roared, grabbing her arm in the street.

"Ronald, you're making a scene," Hermione had said quietly, obviously angry. "Let go of me."

"You can't just keep walking out on me 'Mione." Ron's voice was dangerously low.

"Watch me." And with that, Hermione disapparated straight to her flat. Setting up various complicated wards, Hermione had collapsed onto her bed and cried. She and Ron had always argued, but for the past while she'd just been so angry with him all the time. It wasn't right. Was it her fault? Hermione had been up ridiculously late thinking about Ron, and Draco, and her life...

_Snap out of it! _Hermione thought. _That was yesterday. Today is a new day, and everything will go as planned. No Draco, no Ron...just me. _

A small smile played over Hermione's lips as she set up her office quickly. Her first client was Mrs Wiltshire, one of Hermione's regulars. As soon as Mrs Wiltshire walked in the office, Hermione was no longer Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, Assistant-Saviour of the Wizarding World, fiancée of Ronald Weasley, cleverest witch of her age. She was just Dr. Jean, a helpful, friendly, and decidedly not-extra-special psychologist.

For those forty-five minutes Hermione was happy. She was helping Mrs Wiltshire with her separation anxiety about her children, and her lingering depression about her husband's death. Although Mrs Wiltshire was sad, Hermione got to cheer her up and help her with her sadness. It was remarkably satisfying. "Thank you for coming Mrs Wiltshire," Hermione said at the end of the session. "I'll see you next week?"

"Of course dear," Mrs Wiltshire answered, before opening the door and nearly being run over by a panicking Miss Berkeley.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry Mrs Wiltshire!" Miss Berkeley said, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. "I'll help you to the door -"

"No need, darling," Mrs Wiltshire said, smiling kindly. "It's only three or four steps, I'll manage."

With that, Mrs Wiltshire took her leave, and Miss Berkeley whirled around to face Hermione. "Doctor Jean -"

"Hermione."

"Oh, right, Hermione, erm, Mr Komodo from yesterday is on the line. He's demanding a follow-up session, even though I'm doing what you told me and refusing him. He's getting really upset, and keeps calling me back asking to speak to you. Honestly, he's kind-of scaring me."

Breathing heavily, Miss Berkeley looked like she had just run a marathon. Hermione groaned inwardly. _Will that bastard not leave me alone now? Damn. I guess I'll have to talk to him eventually..._

"It's alright Miss Berkeley," Hermione said. "Just patch him through to my telephone."

With a quick nod, Miss Berkeley disappeared into the front entryway and shut the door. Breaking one of her own most important rules, Hermione took out her wand at work and put some heavy silencing charms on the door. This could become quite the nasty conversation. Looking apprehensively at her telephone, Hermione took a deep breath. _Just get it over with Granger._

She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Do I have the unparalleled pleasure of speaking with the ever-elusive Doctor Jean?" Draco sneered from the other side of the phone.

"Yes," Hermione said sharply. "Now if you would be so kind as to tell the elusive Doctor what she has to do in order to get you to leave her alone, the Doctor would really appreciate it."

"Why Doctor Jean, all I want is for you to allow me to reschedule. We got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and I'd appreciate another session. It did wonders for my attitude, according to Pansy." Draco's voice was smooth and slippery, reminding Hermione of her former Professor Snape's voice.

"And why would I allow you to reschedule after you insulted me and brooded your way out of my office?" Hermione asked, still holding the higher ground.

"...is brooded a verb? I mean, to be used in that context? I would've said "stalked" or "sauntered"...or "exited with flair" -"

"Malfoy!" Hermione snapped. "You haven't answered me!"

"Sorry darling, give a man a minute," Draco said slyly.

"Don't call me darling," Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes at the phone.

"Alright then pumpkin, don't get your knickers in a twist. I just want to try again, OK?" Draco's voice sounded strangely...not condescending.

"Ignoring the whole 'pumpkin' comment...Actually? You legitimately want to come back here for counselling, not just to practice your sarcasm?" Hermione asked.

"Cross my heart darling."

"Don't."

"Pumpkin."

"Malfoy."

"Granger."

"Slytherin idiot."

"Gryffindor moron."

"You are so frustrating!"

"Likewise, darling."

"..."

"So I'll arrive tomorrow at 8:45? Brilliant. See you then."

"Malfoy! I -"

But the call had already been ended. Hermione's anger practically sizzled off of her. _That stupid Slytherin bastard! What a greasy, conniving little – _

"Doctor Jean?" Miss Berkeley's voice came out from over the intercom. "Do I need to schedule a second appointment for Mr Komodo?"

"Yes Miss Berkeley," Hermione said, somewhat reluctantly. "Tomorrow at 8:45, please."

"That's your normal appointment with Mr Harry, miss. Did you want me to reschedule Mr Harry's appointment?"

Hermione smiled. She'd almost forgotten that her appointment with Harry was tomorrow. "I'll talk to Mr Harry, Miss Berkeley. Don't worry. Just please pencil Mr Mal – Mr Komodo in."

"Not to question you Doctor," Miss Berkeley started, "but is that really wise? He was such a rude man, and you were so sad when he left..."

The young girl's concern was touching. "Thank you so much for your kind thoughts, Miss Berkeley, but I can handle myself. Mr Komodo is in need of more help that he realizes."

"Alright Doctor."

As soon as Miss Berkeley signed off of the intercom, Hermione quickly dialed Harry's number on her phone. After the final battle, Harry, like Hermione, had decided that he despised his notoriety in the wizarding world. So, Harry became a muggle lawyer, and had attended the same university as Hermione. The two friends had grown even closer during that time period, and had helped each other through some extremely hard times. Hermione had been Ginny's maid of honor at Harry and Ginny's wedding several years ago, and was now the Godmother of their first child. Because of Harry's ridiculously busy family and professional life, he and Hermione found it difficult to make time to see one another. It was Harry's idea to schedule monthly appointments with Hermione's psychologist business; that way they'd always have private time to talk, and they could avoid any professional or family conflicts.

Harry picked up on the second ring. "Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Harry Potter. I'm not at the phone right now since I'm too busy being a bloody brilliant dad and a bloody brilliant lawyer, and am so excited to just have coffee with my best mate tomorrow for an hour. Please leave your message at the tone."

Hermione was laughing so hard that she had to hold the phone receiver away from her mouth. "Are you really that busy Harry?" she eventually managed to say.

"You have no idea 'Mione. It's ridiculous." Harry sounded so tired. "Yesterday I had a tail – a tail! – from the Daily Prophet. How the hell do they keep finding me? It's absurd!"

Her brow furrowed, Hermione asked "Did you manage to throw him off?"

"Of course!" Harry said. "I'm not that stupid. A simple confundous charm worked perfectly."

Still not placated, Hermione continued. "Did you do any magic at work? I disguised your magical signature last month, but those changes would have worn off by now..."

"Of course not. I'm not quite as daft as you think I am," Harry said. "I just don't understand it. Anyways, here I am being negative. What'd you call for? You sick or something?"

"No, nothing like that." Hermione sighed. "I just have a very important and...volatile client that wanted to book for tomorrow, and he went and booked your appointment time."

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to find the bastard and rough him up a bit, warn him not to take my time again," Harry joked.

Hermione laughed. "Oh, it's not that bad. I just need to reschedule you. I have an open block right around noon tomorrow, we could turn our coffee into a lunch?"

Hermione could hear the flipping of paper as Harry looked through his schedule. "Sounds perfect," Harry replied. "See you at noon?"

"Great. Bye Harry."

"Talk to you tomorrow 'Mione."

Hermione put down the phone with a smile. Talking to Harry always made her feel better. Now she felt like she could handle anything that Draco Malfoy could throw at her.

That is, until a very angry terrier patronus decided to crash through her window. Hermione grimaced. Ron.

The dog didn't appear to speak – its mouth wasn't moving, and its expression didn't change – but Ron's voice echoed around Hermione's small office. "Look 'Mione, I'm sorry about last night. I was rude, and I know it."

Hermione huffed. "That's putting it lightly," she mumbled to herself.

"But I really want to get past this!" Ron continued. "I know that we've been busy with work, and I want to make it up to you. Meet me at Santini's at eight, please? Send your patronus in reply, please. I still hate using those telly-phone things. Love you, 'Mione."

And with that, the terrier dissolved into wisps of silver smoke. Hermione sighed. _At least he's trying to apologize_, she thought. _It's just dinner. Merlin, how can I be thinking like this? I'm bloody marrying Ron, for God's sake! Dinner shouldn't be such an ordeal! _

With a new determined look in her eyes, Hermione conjured her otter patronus. "Please take a message to Ronald Weasley," she asked the apparition. "Tell him that I accept his invitation, but that I have appointments early tomorrow and will be returning home at a reasonable hour."

The otter nodded, and floated through the window. Satisfied, but with a strange empty feeling in her chest, Hermione sat down in her chair to await her next appointment. Suddenly her day seemed a lot less promising.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Fussing with her hair nervously, Hermione stepped in front of Santini's Italian restaurant. She and Ron used to love this restaurant, and come here frequently with the surviving members of Dumbledore's Army. It seemed odd to be coming back to it now...like a dream from the past, almost. Surreal.

_The last time I came here was for Luna and Neville's engagement party! _Hermione thought happily. _They were so lovely together...of course, that was five years ago. I really should catch up with them. _A wave of guilt washed over Hermione as she remembered that she was out of touch with so many of the survivors. _I need to change that. _

Realizing that she was just standing on the front step of the restaurant, Hermione opened the door forcefully and walked in. She was wearing her favourite dress – a little red number that showed off her curves – and a pair of sensible, but good-looking, silver heels. She'd left her hair down for once, allowing it to fall in curls around her face. For Hermione, this was one of the few moments where she felt beautiful. Ron never really told her that she was beautiful – he frequently referred to her as "sexy", or "smashing", but it really didn't have the same effect. "Beautiful" was just such a nice word, a word that said so much.

Hermione arrived at the hostess' desk. "Hello," she said politely. "I have a reservation under 'Weasley', I believe."

Taking a moment to consult her book, the hostess nodded. "I believe that the other member of your party is already here, miss," she said, smiling at Hermione. "Right this way, please."

Hermione followed the hostess to a small table in a corner of the restaurant where Ron was waiting. As Hermione approached, Ron stood up, a grin plastered on his face. _Has his smile ever changed? _Hermione wondered. _It still looks like the goofy smile he had as a first-year...has my smile changed?_

Her thoughts were interrupted when Ron took her hand. "You look smashing, 'Mione!" he said, looking at an area that was decidedly _not _Hermione's face.

Hermione coughed lightly. "Thank you Ronald." Ron looked up, a blush colouring his cheeks.

"Erm, here!" he said frantically, pulling out Hermione's chair.

"Once again, thank you," Hermione said politely.

Ron rolled his eyes as he sat down, and immediately reached for Hermione's hand across the table. "Can't we get rid of all the formality by now, 'Mione?" he said. "I mean, we _are _engaged." He laughed loudly.

"Um, of course," Hermione stuttered, her hand suddenly feeling too warm trapped underneath Ron's hand. "Excuse me," she said, withdrawing her hand and pretending to rummage around in her clutch.

"So, 'Mione..." Ron started.

"Yes?" Hermione replied, placing her hands in her lap, well out of Ron's reach.

"Not to be, well, rude or anything, but you didn't answer any of my calls this morning." Ron looked rather sheepish. "I called your...what's it called? Six-rectary?"

"Secretary," Hermione corrected.

"Oh. Yeah. Secretary. Well, I called her about seven times, and she said that you were unavailable. I told her who I was, but she still said that you were busy! Too busy to talk with your fiancée for crying out loud! I mean really -"

"Ronald, calm down," Hermione interrupted, preventing Ron from turning an even deeper shade of red. "I was late for work. I was actually out of the office when you called."

"Oh. Right then," Ron said, looking relieved. "I was worried that you were...well, that you were ignoring me."

An awkward silence hovered over the table as Ron and Hermione pretended to be intently focussed on the menu. After placing their orders, they refused to meet each others' eyes. Hermione cleared her throat. "So...how was work?"

Ron's face lit up. "Oh, bloody brilliant! Today we went on a really successful reconnaissance mission around Nott Manor and learned some really useful stuff about the perimeter security. If we can get Kingsley to approve it, me and my team can conduct the raid within the week."

Ron was positively glowing when he finished his sentence. The thought of apprehending yet another renegade Death Eater made him almost unbearably cheerful. "Do you know if Nott is actually _in _the mansion?" Hermione asked pointedly. _Shoot, _she thought. _There I go, just bursting his bubble. _

Looking slightly crestfallen, Ron stuttered "Well, no, not exactly...but he must be! I meant, it's _Nott Manor_, ain't it?"

"Suppose he's not there though," Hermione continued. "What's the point of the raid? Why bother risking your lives again?"

Ron's eyes grew harder. "There's bound to be loads of dark artifacts in there anyways 'Mione. Don't you get it? This is really important! It's a big deal that I get to be part of this mission! If I do well, I basically get my promotion handed to me."

Hermione's heart sank at the mention of Ron's promotion.

"Then, when I'm getting the bigger salary and move into Moody's old office, you can quit your bloody hobby in the muggle world and we can get married." Ron moved to grab Hermione's hands again. "It's brilliant!"

A cloud passed behind Hermione's eyes. "My 'bloody hobby'?" she said quietly. "What you so blatantly refer to as my 'hobby' is actually my career, Ronald, and I'd appreciate it if you showed it some respect."

Ron's smile faded. "I wasn't disrespecting you Hermione, or your job it's just...you won't need to do that anymore when we're married! It's silly really, to continue."

Seeing the look on Hermione's face, Ron realized that he'd said the wrong thing. "Silly?" Hermione hissed. "_Silly? _Do you think of Harry's career as "silly"? He's working in the muggle world, even though Ginny's working as a healer! Is his job just a hobby?"

Hermione was practically steaming. Ron weighed his words carefully before continuing. "Well, 'Mione, with Harry it's different. I mean, he's a bloke, right? And even Ginny took time off work when she was pregnant with James."

"Oh, so if I was male you'd have no issue with my job?" Hermione snapped.

This thought seemed to confuse Ron tremendously. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he leaned over to stroke Hermione's cheek. "Well, if you were a bloke I wouldn't be marrying you, now would I?"

The intended romantic comment and gesture backfired. Where Ron's hand touched her skin, Hermione felt an awful crawling sensation, and she burned with a desire to scrub her cheek thoroughly with strong soap. Biting back multiple barbed retorts, Hermione counted to ten. _You're going to try and make this work, Granger. You will make this work. _  
Hermione repeated that phrase over and over again in her head as she slowly opened her eyes to look at Ron. She lightly placed her hand over the hand he placed on her cheek, and smiled at him. "Let's not talk about this now, Ronald," she said smoothly. "Have you heard anything from Charlie lately?"

The rest of dinner was filled with neutral discussions about the various members of the Weasley family. Hermione remembered to laugh when Ron said something that was supposedly funny, and managed to make herself appear interested in his stories, but it all felt hollow. Like she was acting. _Well you are acting, aren't you Granger? _Hermione thought to herself. _This all just feels like a big game of make-believe. Merlin, what's happened to us?_

The waitress finally handed the couple their bill at 10:30. Hermione was anxiously glancing at her watch, knowing that she had that early appointment with Draco the next morning. Over the course of dinner Ron had asked about her clients, but Hermione hadn't found the nerve to tell Ron about Draco. It just hadn't felt right, somehow. Like she was betraying the Slytherin's trust.

Abruptly Hermione stood. "This was lovely Ron, thank you so much," she said slowly, her false smile glued to her face.

Ron looked troubled. "You're going now, 'Mione?"

"Well, yes," Hermione replied. "I have early appointments tomorrow, and I really must get some sleep."

Resigned, Ron said "Alright then. Just let me walk you to the disapparation point?"

Hermione nodded tightly before allowing Ron to take her arm. _Wrong. So wrong. _The two Gryffindors walked the block-and-a-half to the marked alleyway that was a disapparition point for any wizards using the nearby buildings. Ron had walked to Santini's since his flat was very close, and was going out of his way to see Hermione safely home.

"Thank you for your kindness and concern Ron," she said, fiddling with her clutch.

"Do you really have to go back to your place 'Mione?" Ron whined, pulling Hermione in closer.

"Yes, I really do," Hermione sputtered, unhappy being this close to Ron in a relatively public place.

"You could always just come back home with me," Ron breathed into her ear, nuzzling his head into Hermione's shoulder.

She shuddered. "As...tempting as that sounds Ronald," Hermione said, trying to pull away, "I really must be going. I have to get a proper night's sleep."

"Nothing a little Pepper-Up potion won't fix," Ron mumbled into her hair, his hands travelling lower and lower down Hermione's back.

"Ron, I have to go," Hermione said, her voice low.

"Don't," Ron whispered. He placed a kiss just below her ear. Roughly, Ron pulled Hermione around so that she was facing him. Ron swooped down and crushed Hermione's lips to his, pressing her body closer with his hands.

Hermione did not kiss back. She felt...violated. Disgusting. What was she doing? At one point she would have died to get a kiss like this from Ron!

Sighing inwardly, Hermione stepped back and out of Ron's grip. Ron's eyes grew dark. "Ronald, I have to go home," Hermione said. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

And before Ron could say anything else, Hermione disapparated back to her flat.

A/N: Chapter Four, coming soon! Thank so much for all the positive feedback, I really appreciate it! :) ~sneakyslytherin


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Hermione was not an over-sensitive person. She rarely cried, and whenever she let herself succumb to tears she had a perfectly logical and justifiable reason. For example, she always cried at funerals – she'd had to attend far too many funerals – and she always cried at weddings. She cried watching _The Notebook_, and she cried when reading _Marley and Me_. Hermione never spontaneously cried because she had too strong of a grip on her emotions to do so. Hardened by war and sadness, Hermione had managed control her tears, and had always managed to keep her composure during times of hardship and loss.

Despite all of her well-built emotional walls, by the time Hermione had finished the routine wards and safety precautions her tears were flowing freely. "Why does seeing Ron make me so upset?" she asked aloud to her empty flat. "We're supposed to be happy together! Merlin, we're supposed to be the bloody dream couple!" Hermione laughed bitterly at that comment. "If we're the dream couple I'd hate to see the nightmare couple. And now I'm bloody talking to myself, brilliant."

Desperate for something to cement her sanity and take away her traitorous tears, Hermione upended the messy bottom drawer of her bureau. Riffling through the contents, tears still leaking from her eyes, Hermione triumphantly grabbed a black, leather-bound photo album from the mess on the floor. Hurrying to her kitchen counter, Hermione called out, "Accio firewhisky!"before sitting down and opening the book.

Ginny had given Hermione the book for her twenty-fifth birthday, and had made all of the pages herself. Apparently, some of the rarer photos came all the way from Minerva McGonagall, who was very hard to find by then. Retirement made some people extremely elusive, apparently.

Hermione downed a tumbler of firewhisky before reading the words written on page one; just about everyone that Hermione had ever known had written something on that first page. The words, "You're the best 'Mione! Best of luck with your new business. We still need to meet for coffee sometimes, yeah?" were written in Harry's nearly illegible scrawl. Baby James had "written" something for his "Aunty Mione", and even Kingsley Shacklebolt had written a small message. Hermione found herself searching the page for a message from Draco.

_What? Draco wouldn't be on this page! _Hermione thought, pouring herself another glass of firewhisky. _We're not friends. We're just….forced acquaintances. _But the more Hermione focussed on that term, "acquaintance", the less she associated it with Draco. Even if he was a stupid Slytherin that had stalked out of her office, he had really seemed to understand her issues with Ron last session._ Great, now the therapist needs counselling_. Bitterly, Hermione downed the tumbler. _When was the last time I drank like this? _Hermione wondered, her brain already slightly fuzzy. _After the final battle? No, no, it has to be more recent than that…. _She lifted her refilled tumbler up to the light to examine the amber contents more closely.

Reluctantly, Hermione put down the glass and flipped the page of the album, revealing a moving wizarding photo. This one was taken during the Trio's first year at Hogwarts, and showed Ron, Harry, and Hermione standing with Hagrid in front of his hut. Harry stood to the left of Hagrid, and he was smiling, glasses lopsided, his eyes remarkably light. _This picture was taken right at the beginning of the year, before Harry knew about Quirrel_, Hermione thought. Hermione was standing on the opposite side of Hagrid, clutching some dusty tome to her front and looking like life was just too good to be true. _It really was too good to be true_, she thought, tracing her photo lightly with her fingertip. Lastly, Ron was right beside Harry on the opposite side of Hagrid, waving and grinning his lopsided grin that so endeared him to Hermione. _His smile hasn't changed_, Hermione thought glumly._ Does my smile still look like my first-year smile?_

Picking up the photo album, Hermione walked to the bathroom. She quickly removed all of her make-up and then propped the book up on the ledge just in front of the mirror. She compared the two faces; one from the photo, and one from her current reality. Hermione of the past looked carefree, happy, like she could float right up from the photo. Present-Hermione looked like she was burdened with some unspeakable hardship, and that the weight of her sadness was pushing her into the ground. Smiling, the past-Hermione's eyes lit up and her entire face seemed to brighten. Present-Hermione sighed. "Here goes nothing," she mumbled, before thinking of her patronus memory, the happiest memory she could find.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. The happiness seemed to stop just below where here tear-ducts lay beneath her skin. _Maybe I've just cried so much that I've broken my smile_, Hermione thought bitterly. Despite her best efforts to be genuinely happy, Hermione's eyes remained brown and burdened. "This is depressing," she said out loud. "I'm done with this. I'm going to bed." And without setting her alarm, without even changing out of her dress, Hermione lay down and fell asleep instantly.

When Hermione was awoken by weak sunlight hitting her face, she knew that she was late. "Bloody hell, not again!" She continued to swear loudly as she shed her rumpled dress and donned a business suit. Looking in the mirror, Hermione decided that her hair was ok and just needed brushing – no time to waste on straightening charms or bobby pins. Grabbing her briefcase, Hermione rushed out the door and sprinted to the tube station.

After impatiently awaiting her stop, Hermione jumped out of the train-car like she was on springs, and dashed into the street. Glancing at her watch, Hermione groaned. "This can't get any worse, can it?" she asked the world, only to have the world respond with a torrential downpour of rain. "Wonderful," Hermione said dryly, her hair already frizzing beyond her control. She swore loudly as she realized that she'd left her umbrella at home. "Damn it all," she said, running the four blocks to her office.

When she opened the door to her waiting room, Hermione found Miss Berkeley pacing anxiously once again. Before the young girl could say anything, Hermione said quickly "No need to worry. I just need a moment."

Miss Berkeley nodded and handed Hermione a coffee. "The way you like it, Doctor – no sugar, but a bit of cream."

"Thank you very much," Hermione said gratefully, inhaling the life-saving scent. "And it's Hermione!" she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door to her office.

Closing her eyes, Hermione sank to the ground in front of the door. "Merlin," she said to herself. "Why do these things seem to always happen to me?"

"Well, Miss Granger, I'd say you bring them upon yourself."

Hermione shrieked, jumped up and pulled her wand out of her suit pocket. After a moment of recognition, she realized that she had just been scared out of her wits by Draco Malfoy. Sitting perfectly straight (_on the couch_, Hermione thought smugly), wearing a black three-piece suit, his blonde hair slicked back precisely, cane across his knees, he created quite the image.

"As is obvious from you pointing your wand at me," Draco started, standing up and walking towards Hermione, "You still have control over your magic. Whether or not you know how to use that magic _properly _is beyond my powers of observation, but a simple water-repelling charm is first-year material, _Doctor Jean_." Draco was now very close to Hermione. "And," he said, his lips curling up into a smile, "you dropped your coffee."

Hermione looked down and realized that in her panic she had, in fact, spilled her coffee all over her suit. She swore loudly. "Now I'm going to have to get this bloody _dry cleaned_," she ranted, pulling off her almost-ruined suit jacket so that she was just wearing her wet grey blouse and black skirt. "It's probably _ruined -_"

"Miss Granger," Malfoy interrupted. "Are you, or are you not, a witch? You could fix that with a simple charm, you know."

Hermione attempted to regain her composure. "It is my policy to minimize my use of magic, Malfoy." Draco arched one blonde eyebrow. "I'm living in the muggle world, it seems right that I should live as a muggle."

Draco snorted. "Now that has to be one of the stupidest things I've ever heard. Live like a muggle, hah!"

"If you remember correctly," Hermione said lowly, "I am a muggleborn – I lived the first eleven years of my life without any magic whatsoever. I think I can manage to minimize my magic now, thank you very much." Hermione lowered her wand and stuffed it into her briefcase. Draco arched his other eyebrow, his eyes flicking towards Hermione's wand. "That was for self-defence!" she sputtered. "That's an entirely different matter!"

"Well, I'm not restricted by your stupid rules," Malfoy said, grabbing the edge of Hermione's suit jacket. "So, I can do this without feeling guilty."

"No!" Hermione shrieked, attempting to pull her jacket back.

"Yes," Malfoy said calmly, taking his wand out from his pocket.

"No, I refuse to let you – to let you – do that!" she finished lamely.

"Your vocabulary has deserted you, bookworm," Malfoy said with a laugh, pulling the coffee-stained jacket towards him.

"Well at least I had one to begin with," Hermione hissed, tugging back.

"My, my, aren't feisty this morning darling?" Draco mocked, pulling the jacket so hard that Hermione stumbled forwards.

"Let go, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth.

"Let go? Really?" Malfoy asked, a smile hovering over his lips.

"Yes, really! Now let" – tug – "my" –tug – "jacket" – tug – "GO!"

"Alright, your wish is my command darling." And with that, Draco let go of Hermione's jacket, his sudden release causing Hermione to stumble backwards, trip over her briefcase, and fall – hard – onto the floor.

Tears appeared in Hermione's eyes, although she tried very hard to blink them back. There were several moments of tense silence. "That actually really hurt, Mr Komodo," Hermione said quietly, rubbing the wetness in her eyes away.

Malfoy's smile fell immediately, and a pained look appeared in his grey-blue eyes. "I apologize, Doctor Jean," he said formally, extending his hand to help her up.

Hermione, clutching her stained jacket to her chest, smiled wanly and took Draco's offered hand. His skin was warm and dry, _completely the opposite of Ron's,_ Hermione thought. Draco continued his apology. "That was very childish of me, and I am extremely sorry for any hurt I caused you."

"I just fell over, it's not like I broke anything," Hermione said, wincing as she felt the bruise on her back forming.

"I came here to make a better impression," Draco said, almost to himself, "and I just….screwed everything up. Again."

Hermione looked up at Draco, who was still holding her hand subconsciously. "You didn't screw everything up," Hermione whispered. "Right now you're being a perfect gentlemen."

Draco looked down at her, and an indiscernible emotion flashed across his face before he looked back up again. At a loss, Hermione looked at Draco's chest. _Not a bad view_, she thought, her eyes tracing the muscles beneath the shirt. Hermione blinked quickly. _No, no, no, nonononono. You're not doing this to yourself, not with Draco Malfoy of all bloody people_.

Hermione looked back up at Draco's face. "Thank you," she said quietly, before she pressed herself against him in a hug.

Looking like someone had just slapped him across the face with a flobberworm, Draco looked down at the young woman who had so suddenly hugged him. _When was the last time I got a hug like this? _Draco wondered. _Maybe never._

Rather than let Granger awkwardly give a one-sided hug, Draco made a life-changing decision; he decided to hug her back.

_Oh Merlin he's hugging me back_, Hermione thought. When she had initiated the hug, Hermione was just looking for a way to fill the space and stop staring. Now she was _bloody _hugging Draco _bloody _Malfoy! Awkwardly, Hermione tried to pull away from Draco only to find that the Slytherin was holding her quite tightly. Hermione swore silently. _What have you done now, Granger? _

Then Draco lightly rested his chin on Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione absolutely melted. _Well, it's just one hug_, she thought. _He needs it! It's my duty as a counsellor. It's not like I'm being unfaithful, or anything...it's a hug between friends._

Hermione moved her hands up Draco's back, increasing the pressure between them. Draco then started absentmindedly moving his hands in small circles on Hermione's back, still keeping his hands above her waist. The light, roving pressure felt so wonderful, and Hermione felt her eyes close..._ No! Nononononono, I can't do this, _she thought frantically. _Big no-no. We're done now. _

Slowly pulling back, pressing past Malfoy's light hold on her back, Hermione eventually succeeded in increasing the gap between her and Draco. Noticing that Draco's eyes were closed, Hermione coughed lightly. "Erm, thank you Mr. Malfoy," she said awkwardly.

Draco's eyes snapped open, and he quickly put a step between himself and Hermione. "Not at all, Miss Granger," he said stiffly.

It was just then that Hermione noticed that she had left obvious wet splotches all over Malfoy's suit. Looking down at the floor around her, she also realized that she had created several small puddles all over the floor. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried, immediately looking around for something to dry Draco off with.

Draco looked down at himself and grinned. "No worries, Miss Granger, I – a powerful and talented wizard -" Hermione snorted unabashedly, "shall clean up your office in mere moments!"

Acting like the ringmaster of his own circus, Draco dramatically banished the offending puddles from the floor and cast a quick drying charm on himself. However, his drying charm proved to be a bit strong and rather than a single jet of air coming from his wand, a proper gust blew up across his clothes and face.

Blinking rapidly, Draco looked somewhat apprehensively at Hermione, as if he was waiting for the sarcastic comment that was sure to be fired in his direction. Hermione disappointed him however, when she started laughing. "You truly are a most _powerful _wizard, Lord Malfoy," she giggled, noticing that his hair looked quite good when it had been freed from its gelled prison.

Draco smiled again. "You are also a most powerful wizard Miss Granger, only one wouldn't guess it from looking at your rather wet and bedraggled appearance."

Hermione smiled, wickedly raising one eyebrow. "Well, at least I don't walk around looking like I stepped out of the nineteenth century," she retorted, beginning a playful banter.

The exchange of comments continued, but this conversation was different than most others that Draco and Hermione had; this exchange wasn't made to hurt, or embarrass. Rather, both parties were just seeking connection, acceptance, and a welcoming embrace to fall into.

The forty-five minute session ended quite suddenly for Hermione and Draco. They both looked at the beeping clock as if it were a traitor, walking into their peaceful truce and reminding them of a harsh reality. Hermione sighed. "Well, unfortunately your time is now up Mr Malfoy. I do have other appointments."

"Draco," he interrupted. "Please, call me Draco."

Hermione started. "Well of course...Draco. But only if you call me Hermione."

"Even in front of your secretary?" Draco asked, his lips quirking into a half-smile.

"She knows my first name," Hermione said, exasperated. "She just switches my last and middle names around."

"Of course...Hermione," Draco said, the name feeling foreign on his tongue.

Hermione walked with Draco to the elevator, leaving a very confused Miss Berkeley behind them.

"Why is she looking at us like we're about to catch on fire?" Draco whispered as they left the room.

Hermione laughed. "After your display the other day she expects you to murder me and leave my body where no one will find it." Draco frowned, not finding the comment funny in the slightest. "Oh, she just worries for me!" Hermione assured him. "She's really quite a dear."

Pushing the button to summon the lift, Hermione broke the silence by blurting out "What's the head on your cane? I was trying to see what it was during your session, but I couldn't really figure it out."

Blushing, Hermione looked down at the ground. Draco placed the head of his cane under her chin, and lifted her head so that she would meet her eyes. "It's under a disillusionment charm, meant to confuse those who look at it on the streets," Draco said slowly. "Even Pansy doesn't know what it is."

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry," Hermione babbled, blushing profusely. "I didn't mean to pry, I'm sorry I asked. I only just realized that it wasn't a snake head." She looked away again.

This time, Draco used his hand to gently move his eyes back to meet his. _Merlin his hands are soft, _Hermione thought.

Draco smiled slowly. "Tell you what, _Hermione_," he said, saying her name slowly. "I'll show you what's on my cane _if -_"

"Oh, I knew there was a catch!" Hermione huffed dramatically, crossing her arms.

"I will show you what's on my cane _if _you allow me to schedule an appointment for 8:45 tomorrow," Draco said quietly.

Hermione pretended to consider his offer. "Why of course, _Draco_," she said pointedly. Grinning a rather wicked grin, Hermione continued "I wasn't considering inviting you back unless you offered me some sort of incentive."

Draco smiled. "Until next time, Doctor Jean." He stroked her cheek slightly before removing his hand entirely. Then Draco tipped his hat and stepped into the just-arriving lift.

"Until next time, Mr Komodo," Hermione said, waving as the elevator doors closed.

She didn't notice it as she walked back to her office, but if Hermione had stopped to look in a mirror she would have noticed that she was sporting the most beautiful smile. It was full, sincere, and lovely, and it reached deep into her eyes and created the loveliest twinkle.

A/N: Chapter five (featuring Hermione's lunch with Harry) coming soon! Thank you for your lovely reviews and support! ~sneakyslytherin


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone for your lovely reviews and readership! It's amazing to know that people are actually reading my writing, haha. :) THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUUUUU U! 3 ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Five:

After Draco left, Hermione floated through the rest of her morning. She had several more appointments, and every client commented on how Hermione seemed genuinely happy. Hermione would just laugh and say, "You can attribute that to a full night's sleep."

Hermione's neighbour arrived at ten o'clock with her trench coat and umbrella. "Thank you very much Mr Clark," Hermione gushed. "I really appreciate you doing this!"

Unaccustomed to such emotion from his usually subdued neighbour, Mr Clark gave Hermione a startled smile. "No worries, Dr Jean...anytime!"

At around noon Hermione did up her trench coat so that it would cover her coffee-stained suit, and walked out of her office. "Oh, Doctor Jean!" Miss Berkeley called after her. Hermione turned. "Mister Ron is on the phone for you..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Good grief Ronald. _"Tell him the truth Miss Berkeley," Hermione stated. "I have a client appointment, and I'm very busy today."

Miss Berkeley grinned. "Yes Doctor Jean."

Hermione winked, spun around, and continued down the stairs – who needs elevators? – to the front entryway of her building. Just as Hermione stepped out of the building, Harry pulled up in his new Audi. Hermione whistled. "Hey, mister big shot solicitor!" she called as Harry stepped out of the car. "Be careful or someone might steal your new ride!"

Harry grinned and walked over to where Hermione was standing. Quietly, he said "Ah, but that's the wonderful thing about magic! I have this beauty covered in anti-theft charms; anyone who tries to get in without my permission will end up with a particularly nasty case of boils."

Hermione smacked Harry's shoulder. "That's dreadful!" she said, feigning shock.

Shrugging, Harry replied "It's more effective than any muggle system I've seen."

Shaking her head, Hermione peered inside the window of the Audi. This was Harry's fifth car in three years, and was the most expensive one yet. It's not that Harry crashed his cars, or anything. He just loved cars the way he loved brooms, and used his relative wealth to increase his collection of stunning automobiles.

Harry put his hand on Hermione's upper arm and steered her away from the car. Putting his arm around her shoulders, Harry asked "So, Doctor Jean, where would you like to take your lunch?"

Thoughtful, Hermione wracked her brains for any good restaurant she could remember. "I don't know," she finally said. "I so rarely eat out anymore."

"Ok, then what are you in the mood for?" Harry asked. "Italian? French? Indian?"

Hermione crinkled her nose. "Definitely _not _Italian," she said, blocking all memories of her disastrous dinner with Ron. "Um...how about...French?"

"Coming right up, Miss," Harry said in his pitiful attempt at a French accent. "You can go _mange les...les..._what's the word for those snails, 'Mione?"

"_Escargot_," Hermione supplied. "_Oui, nous pouvons manger l'escargot._"

"So, only the finest for our doctor?" Harry asked, turning the conversation back to English.

Hermione laughed. "Only if the local lawman thinks that's a wise course of action."

"Righty-o!" Harry said, turning into an alleyway. "Just...the best restaurant is a ways away, and I was wondering if you could -"

"Of course Harry," Hermione interrupted. Following Harry into the alley, she silently threw up shields between them and the street. Lightly placing her hands on Harry's temples, she murmured a very complex incantation. As the chant grew louder and louder, Harry's bright white aura became visible around his body. When Hermione finished, his aura was diluted with dark blue that mixed with the white to create a sky-blue sort-of colour. Hermione sighed. "I really do like your actual magic better. It's so beautiful."

Harry grimaced. "Well, if I could remain untraceable and stop having my "beautiful magic" undo your spells, that'd be nice."

Grabbing Hermione's hand with his, Harry spun in a circle and disapparated with a loud "crack".

When the two wizards arrived at their destination, Hermione gasped. "Fleur de Lis! Harry, this restaurant is far too lavish! I can't even take off my jacket because of a coffee stain -"

But Hermione was interrupted by a warm current of air that passed over her body. Recognizing Harry's magic instantly, Hermione was reminded of the untapped layers of Harry's magical core; magic that had laid dormant since the defeat of Voldemort. This unexplored magic seemed to resist the superficial changes that Hermione made to Harry's signature, dismantling a supposedly permanent charm in a month. For the millionth time since she'd realized how powerful Harry really was, Hermione wondered if all that magic was content to stay hidden forever.

When the young witch looked down again, her suit was as pristine-looking as the day she first purchased it. "After that entire fight to keep it stained..." Hermione grumbled, trailing off. She could just picture Draco's smug smirk if he ever figured out that she'd let Harry just steamroll her without a protest.

Harry raised his eyebrows comically. "Is there an issue, Miss Granger?" he asked formally, bowing forward like a butler.

Hermione tilted her face upwards comically. "Why yes, Mister Potter. It seems that I have misplaced my stained suit jacket."

"Oh dear!" Harry said, feigning concern. "Well, the one you're wearing looks like a suitable replacement."

Sniffing, Hermione said haughtily, "It shall suffice."

Two pairs of eyes met – one deep and brown, one green from behind circles of glass – and they both burst out laughing. Harry grabbed Hermione's shoulder and steered her into the famous elite wizard restaurant. When Hermione moved to cast glamours on herself and Harry, he covered her hand.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "We're just going to walk in here looking like – like -" Hermione was gesturing wildly before finishing – "us?"

Smiling, Harry held a finger up to his lips to shush his worried friend. Hermione hunched over and crossed her arms like she always did when she was self-conscious, but Harry kept his arm around her rapidly deflating shoulders.

"Table for two, please," Harry said to the hostess.

"Of course sir. Follow me please," the young girl said.

After they were seated and settled, Hermione glared at Harry from behind her menu. "What are you playing at Harry?" she hissed quietly. "Why haven't we been mobbed yet? I don't know about you, but I really have no wish to sign hundreds of autographs!"

"Relax 'Mione," Harry said, leaning back in his chair. "The hostess is a friend of Ginny's, and we're under notice-me-not charms now. No one will see us, and we don't need to bother with glamours."

Suspiciously, Hermione lowered her menu. Her eyes narrowing, she said "No one sees us?"

"No one except Clara," Harry assured her. "Now, I'm dithering between the chicken or the halibut..."

After a few minutes of remarkably fan-free conversation, Hermione allowed her defences to fall. Harry always knew how to relax her, and the two achieved their normal camaraderie. Unlike her banal conversations with Ron, Hermione's conversations with Harry were loaded with emotion, memories, hopes, and gut-wrenching honesty from both friends. They had always laid their hearts bare to one another, knowing the damage that secrets can do to a relationship.

So, it was no surprise to Hermione that over their after-lunch coffees she was dwelling on Draco. _Should I tell Harry about him? _she wondered. _I mean, I don't know what I'd say..._

Harry interrupted Hermione's reverie by saying, "So, you seem remarkably upbeat today. Usually it takes most of lunch to get you to brighten up, but you were glowing when you walked out of your office. Did you have a particularly interesting client this morning?"

Nodding, Hermione weighed her words carefully. "I had a very...interesting morning. Very pleasant, in fact. I didn't expect this particular appointment to be as optimistic or exciting as he was." She was tracing the tip of her index finger around her coffee cup lightly, her eyes looking past Harry.

"You seem rather smitten with this customer," Harry joked.

"No!" Hermione snapped, all too quickly. Harry raised his eyebrows. Hermione coughed, slightly awkwardly. "No, I am not...smitten. He was just very kind to me."

"The people you work with can have serious issues, 'Mione," Harry warned. "I wouldn't get too attached to anyone -"

"Oh, it's not like that Harry!" Hermione said, exasperated.

"Then tell me what it's like," Harry said, raising his cappuccino cup to his lips.

"Um, well," Hermione stuttered. "He's very...chivalrous, and seems genuinely interested in what I have to say about my life. He's concerned for my welfare, and he's a wizard."

Adding the fact that Draco was a wizard piqued Harry's interest. "Oh, a wizard?" Harry asked, sitting up in his chair. "A local?"

Knowing that Harry knew almost all the London wizards, having met them through Ginny, his connection with the Ministry, or from Hogwarts, Hermione hesitated. "Um, I'd rather not say."

Harry grinned and leaned forward. "A mystery visitor, now I'm interested!"

Hermione attempted to scowl before continuing. "Well, I was late for work today, and I'd forgotten my jacket and umbrella..."

When Hermione had finished her story – still not naming the mysterious, handsome wizard – Harry was smiling impishly. "It sounds like this dashing young wizard has made quite the first impression on you, 'Mione."

Blushing profusely, Hermione shook her head. "No...well, yes. But no. He's not supposed to make an impression on me. I'm engaged."

"Oh Merlin, Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "You're not pulling that card, are you? If you're interested in this guy then don't push him away just yet. You said he's coming back tomorrow?" Hermione nodded quickly. "Then ask him some personal questions. See if he's willing to open up to you. Then you'll know if he's someone special."

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, no, no, Harry don't do this to me!" she said, frustrated. "I'm engaged to Ron, and that is the end of the matter. There can't be anyone else who's 'special' for me!"

Harry looked sadly at Hermione's determined face. "Hermione, why are you doing this to yourself?" he asked quietly, his voice resounding with pain and sympathy.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione said coldly.

Harry sighed. "Why keep up this charade?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, Ron's an awesome bloke and a mean Keeper, but...you've outgrown him 'Mione. You just won't admit it."

Tears started to appear in the corners of Hermione's eyes. _Not now Granger, Merlin, not now..._

"Growing apart isn't a bad thing 'Mione," Harry said, taking her hand. His palms and fingers were thickly calloused from hours of duelling practice and tennis, and their rough, reassuring presence comforted Hermione. "You and Ron came together in a time of war and hardship, and it's understandable that during peace time you feel differently."

"You sound like you have this all worked out," Hermione said shakily, not moving her hand.

Harry smiled sadly. "Ginny and I have seen this coming for a while now. You two just...aren't suited for each other. You were, at one point. Now...not as much."

At this point a single tear fell from Hermione's eyes. Brushing it away quickly, Hermione countered "But you and Ginny, you came together during war time and you're still as in love as you were ten years ago!"

Harry's eyes misted over. "Well, with Gin it's something...something _more _than just 'love.'"

Hermione scoffed. "More than love?"

"Yeah," Harry said seriously, making Hermione blush at her flippant comment. "It's like...like a tie. Like we're knotted together somehow. We've shared so much together that we don't need to talk to each other to say how we feel; we both just...know how the other is feeling."

Hermione was quiet. "I mean, I know it sounds like rubbish," Harry continued, "but we're almost like a puzzle. She's...she's my missing piece."

Forcing back the tears that threatened to overflow, Hermione lifted her now-cold coffee to her lips. The red lipstick stain she left on the china seemed to be in stark contrast with the white, making Hermione feel nauseous.

Giving Hermione a moment to collect herself, Harry kept going. "Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you have that connection with Ron." Hermione stared at Harry with watery eyes. "You may have had it at one point, but I don't think that connection survived."

"How can you guess all of this?" Hermione whispered. "Am I that obvious?"

Harry smiled. "Only to me, 'Mione."

"Thank Merlin," Hermione said, a bit stronger. "I'd hate to walk around thinking that everyone can read me like an open book."

"But 'Mione," Harry said, interjecting one last time. "If you can find happiness with this guy, or any other guy, please don't let Ron stop you. Break it off with him, please. It'll be good for both of you."

Smiling sadly, Hermione shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that yet, Harry," she said quietly. "Thank you, though."

Harry sat back, a forced happy smile on his face. "Well, enough with that," he said far too loudly, or so it seemed to Hermione. "Would the good doctor like me to accompany her home?"

Hermione smiled genuinely. "That would be lovely, thank you."

The trip back to Hermione's office was uneventful, but she noticed that Harry's aura had already turned a lighter shade of blue. "Harry," she started, very concerned. "Please monitor your aura closely and let me know if it gets too white – don't hesitate to call."

Harry grinned. "Of course, doctor."

Hermione lightly smacked his shoulder. "I'm not that kind of doctor, moron. Now get home before Ginny calls me asking what I've done with you."

Mockingly, Harry saluted as he stepped into his car. "Yes ma'am. Wouldn't want to worry the wife." Almost as an afterthought, Harry asked, "Oh and 'Mione, are you going to the Weasley dinner tomorrow?" Hermione nodded. "See you there then!"

"Say hello to James, Albus, and Lily for me," Hermione called through the window.

"Of course," Harry said. "Don't party too hard!"

And with that, Harry pulled away from the curb. Hermione waved at her friend until his Audi turned the corner and winked out of sight. A sudden ache sprung up in Hermione's chest as she walked into her office building. Feelings of loneliness and conflict sank deep into her bones, and despite the fact that her last clients of the day were all very kind, each one commented on how she seemed sad and tired. "Blame it on lack of sleep," Hermione would say quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the late upload today - this is a long, very special chapter, and I wanted to make it absolutely perfect. Thanks for your continued support! :) ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Six:

Hermione was not late on Friday. In her favourite coffee shop by eight o'clock, Hermione allowed herself some time to indulge in her people-watching. Today, however, Hermione kept seeing people who were still alive. Messy black hair with glasses, red hair of all lengths and consistencies, short blonde hair that stopped just above a shirt collar...

Disgruntled, Hermione walked the block to her office with a frown on her face. _What's gotten into me? _she wondered, not even bothering to smile back at kind, smiling passerby. _It can't be my fight with Ron..._

Miss Berkeley jumped up when Hermione entered the office. "Doc-Hermione!" she said happily. "Good morning, miss!"

Hermione smiled sadly. "Good morning Miss Berkeley."

When Hermione started to walk into her office without continuing the conversation, Miss Berkeley's smile slid off of her face. A pain shot through Hermione's chest; she had no right to be forcing her strange melancholia on anyone else. Turning around, Hermione asked Miss Berkeley "How was your evening?"

Miss Berkeley's smile returned. "Fine, Doctor, thank you. And you?"

Hermione thought back on her evening, spent eating far too much chocolate and watching muggle soap operas to keep her mind off of Ron, Draco, and Harry. A genuine smile flashed across her face as Hermione replied, "Unproductive, but therapeutic. Thank you."

On that note Hermione walked into her office and shut the door behind her. Throwing her briefcase down beside her chair, Hermione sat down with a sigh. Her bobby pins were irritatingly scratching her scalp, and Hermione was in no mood to be irritated – she pulled every single pin out, watching her elaborate up-do collapse like a falling soufflé.

Putting her face into her hands, Hermione allowed herself to close her eyes and arrange her thoughts. During the war, Hermione had to learn how to completely banish her emotions and allow logic to rule her brain. Envisioning putting her heart in a small box, Hermione shut out her hope, hurt, confusion, and desire so that she could just focus on the facts. _Fact One: You are engaged to Ron Weasley, _Hermione thought grimly. _Fact Two: You are irrevocably and undeniably attracted to Draco Malfoy. Fact Three: Your best friend can see that you aren't happy with Ron. Fact Four:...it's unclear whether Draco is actually interested in you. _

Hermione sighed, and rubbed her face with her hands. _Damn this, _she thought, letting her emotions creep back into her thoughts. Glancing down at her watch, Hermione realized that it was past 8:45...almost 9:00, in fact. _Now Draco's standing me up, brilliant._

Anger now joining the myriad of emotions circling in her brain, Hermione stood up and began pacing. "You know what, screw Draco," she said loudly. "I'm done playing this game with myself."

Just as Hermione was about to press the intercom button to talk to Miss Berkeley, a ball of white mist came hurtling through Hermione's window. As she watched, the mist distinctively morphed into a weasel shape. _...a ferret! _Hermione thought, and her lips curved up into a smile. _Draco._

Hermione's smile disappeared, however, when the ferret began to project the sounds of a fight. Thuds, cracks, and pants echoed throughout Hermione's office, and she almost missed the quiet voice saying, "Help me. Please."

"Draco!" Hermione said, her voice filled with concern. Not even pausing to grab her jacket, Hermione ran through her office, down the stairs, and into the street. Holding her wand inside her jacket sleeve, Hermione whispered "Point me, Draco," very quietly.

Following the strong pull of Malfoy's magic, Hermione was led to a side-street littered with rubbish. Hermione tried to cross into the alley, only to find her way blocked by a flimsy magical barrier. Rolling her eyes, Hermione flicked her wand and watched the barricade shatter and float away in the brisk breeze. Raising her wand and continuing with years of perfected, cautious battle technique, Hermione followed the noise of the scuffle farther and farther into the alleyway.

"Damn Death Eaters," a gruff male voice said. "Never know when to bloody give up."

"Personally...I find resilience to be...an admiral trait."

Hermione thrilled at the sound of Draco's sarcastic – if muffled and slurring – voice. _He's still ok! And he's still being sarcastic, bloody moron..._

"Shut your mouth, filth," another voice said, and a loud thump echoed through the air as a foot connected with Draco's stomach.

"I'll shut it for him," the first voice laughed, and more thuds were heard.

Pushing her nausea and rage aside, Hermione coolly stepped out from behind the dumpster. "Excuse me gentlemen," she said slowly. The thugs whipped around, surprise obvious on their faces. Draco was curled on the ground, his hands and feet bound with charms. Desperately, his grey eyes met her brown, and Hermione felt something shift inside of her. "I hate to interrupt," she continued calmly, "but that "filth" happens to be under my protection."

The second man scoffed. "Yeah, right. Get yer nose out from where in doesn't belong, girlie. This is a man's fight."

"I hardly see what's so manly about magically binding this gentlemen and beating him within an inch of his life," Hermione said coldly. "Now step away, before you force my hand."

"No," the first man said, his eyes narrowing as he raised his wand.

Hermione sighed dramatically. "Remember, this was your decision," she said in a sing-song voice. Before either men could utter a word, Hermione had silently disarmed them and bound them. "Now gentlemen," she said, twirling her wand in her fingers as she walked towards them. "What were you saying about this being a man's fight?"

The second man's eyes widened in recognition as Hermione's face came into the light. "Oh Merlin, Miss Granger! What – Why -"

"Don't overtire your brain cell," Hermione said dryly.

"We work for the light too!" the first man whined, his eyes moving restlessly. "Why associate yourself with this...this...evil?"

"You and I have a very different opinion of what evil is," Hermione hissed before casting a silencing charm on the two thugs. "Tomorrow is rubbish collection day, if I remember correctly. Maybe the collectors will take you to the landfill, where you belong." For good measure, Hermione stepped on both of their wands with her high heels, feeling them splinter beneath her feet.

Hermione unbound Draco with a flick, and put her arm under his shoulders to help him up. "My cane," Draco croaked, his voice hoarse and lips bloody.

"Of course, sorry – Accio Malfoy's cane!" Hermione called, smiling smugly as the black staff flew towards her hand.

Malfoy's eyes rolled back into his head, and his body sagged in Hermione's arms. "No, not now Malfoy!" she hissed. "Don't give these low-lifes the satisfaction."

His eyes slightly unfocussed, Draco nodded and leaned heavily on Hermione. "Th-thank -"

"Don't start that, Draco," Hermione said quietly. "Just let me get you inside."

It was an odd sight; the Golden Girl lending her arm to her former nemesis, a known dark wizard and former Death Eater. Well, it would have been an odd sight had Hermione not cast a notice-me-not charm on the two of them, making it virtually impossible for wizards or muggles to notice their presence. A very confused Miss Berkeley was waiting for Hermione when she stepped out of the elevator, and promptly fainted upon seeing Malfoy's condition.

He was a rather startling sight, with his ripped grey suit and bloodied face, Hermione holding his cracked cane. "Oh dear," Hermione said quietly. "I could've used her help. _Ennervate._"

Miss Berkeley's eyes opened. "Miss Berkeley," Hermione whispered. "would you please help me carry Mister Komodo to my office?"

The young girl nodded. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" she asked, putting her arm around Draco's unsupported side.

Malfoy's eyes grew wide, and his breathing much shallower. Panicked, he tried to shake his head, only to realize that that motion hurt, a lot. Wincing, Hermione said "No, Miss Berkeley, that won't be necessary." Draco's breathing went back to normal, and he let his eyes slip closed.

Hermione continued addressing Miss Berkeley when they reached her office, saying "Please cancel my appointments for this morning. Tell them that I've become very suddenly ill, and I'll see them all tomorrow."

"Yes Hermione, right away." With that, Miss Berkeley shut the door to Hermione's office, giving her employer and her strange, new client the privacy that they so desperately needed.

Hermione lay Malfoy down on the couch, his head resting on a pillow. Draco's eyes fluttered open. "Than-Tha -"

"Stop," Hermione said firmly. "I will not accept your thanks, only your cooperation. Please stay still."

Pulling her wand from out of her shirtsleeve, Hermione began assessing the damage that the two thugs had been able to inflict. Draco had three cracked ribs, a broken nose, a mild concussion, a fractured ankle, broken fingers, and too many bruises and lacerations to count properly. "Merlin," she said quietly, looking down at Draco's bloody face. "How long were you down there?"

Clearing her head, Hermione banished all the blood from Draco's skin. Glad to see that the cuts weren't bleeding too badly, she set and healed all the broken bones and fractures with her wand. She watched as her mint-green aura pooled around Draco's chest, fingers, head, and feet, before diffusing into his skin and bones. "Draco," Hermione said, leaning further over him. "I need to take off your suit jacket, and preferably your shirt. It'll let me see your bruises."

Malfoy's right hand immediately clutched at his left forearm. "Isn't there..." he wheezed, his breathing easier but not back to normal yet. "Isn't there...a spell...to do that?"

Shaking her head, Hermione said "Not exactly. Spells will cover the bruises, not heal them. I need to apply a salve in order to actually get rid of them."

Searching Hermione's eyes for ulterior motives or malice, Draco narrowed his eyes. Seeing total honesty in Hermione's facial expression, the young man nodded to her and closed his eyes.

Moving over to her briefcase, Hermione rummaged around until she found a small white bag. With an enlarging charm, the small white bag turned into a massive first aid kit, from which Hermione pulled a small silver jar labelled "Bruise Paste". Hermione always carried her emergency supplies with her - Mad-Eye's mantra of "constant vigiliance" applied even after the fighting ended.

Looking back down at Malfoy, Hermione saw that his face was set into a frown, his jaw clenched tightly. Hermione softened. "It's alright, Malfoy," she said, reaching down and brushing his hair off of his face. "I just want to help you."

Reaching down, Hermione gently removed Draco's destroyed outer jacket. His eyes shot open, and he watched her with curiosity. Not allowing his stare to deter her, Hermione undid the few buttons left on his vest, and pulled that off very gently as well. Malfoy's pristine white shirt was now grey, splashed with crimson, but Hermione still undid all the buttons carefully and gently slid it off of his shoulders.

Malfoy's chest and stomach were positively purple. Various splashes of red crossed over top of the bruises, and you could barely see Draco's original, ivory skin colour. His Dark Mark, now pale on his left forearm after years of disuse, was the only unbruised patch of skin on Draco's upper body. Trying to keep her breathing even, Hermione smiled at Draco and said, "There. Not so bad, was it?"

Hermione grabbed the bruise salve from beside her and started with Draco's feet. Pulling off his shoes and socks, she rubbed the grey, thick paste onto both of his ankles. Moving up and skipping his legs (the thugs had obviously not targeted those), Hermione rubbed the salve on his stomach and chest. Immediately, the dark purple bruises started to melt away, shrinking until they disappeared. Finishing Draco's shoulders and arms, carefully avoiding the Dark Mark, Hermione looked up to his face.

Draco had a massive split lip, and huge bruises around where his nose was broken. His jaw line was crimson and purple, and he had an enormous black eye. Sighing, Hermione coated her fingertips in salve. "I really don't get people, you know?" she said to Malfoy as she ran her fingers lightly along his jaw.

Malfoy's eyes snapped back open. "I mean, to do this to you...they don't even know you!" she continued, obviously frustrated. Gently dabbing at Draco's nose, she said "It's just disgusting. And they call themselves agents of the light."

Finally, Hermione moved on to Draco's eye. With extreme care, Hermione propped Draco up into a sitting position. "I'll need you to please close your eye, Draco," she said softly, placing her hand on his cheek. "This'll take just a second."

Draco's eyes widened, his eyes showing suspicion, acceptance, and finally wonder that someone would actually show such care to him. Rather than try to nod again, Draco just closed his eyes. Hermione lightly traced her fingers along Draco's eyelid, watching his lashes flutter at her touch. _God he's beautiful, _she thought. _Even when he's bloody and beaten, he's beautiful._

When Draco opened his eyes, he was superficially back to normal. His bruises had disappeared, and his cuts had grown back together. "Your bones will need you to rest in order to set properly," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You're welcome to borrow my couch."

Moving to stand up, Hermione started when she felt Draco's hand on her arm. "Sit with me?" he croaked, his eyes pleading and desperate.

"Mister Malfoy, I hardly think that's appropriate -" Hermione started, knowing that if she stayed with Draco she would definitely lose the battle raging inside of her.

"I thought..." Malfoy started. "I thought...you said...you'd call me...Draco...Hermione." He attempted to raise one eyebrow, giving up when that proved too painful.

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, sitting beside Malfoy. "Sorry Draco."

Malfoy's head rested back on the sofa, nestling in the deep pillows. Hermione smiled at him. _Typical, lazy Malfoy_, she thought with absolutely no bitterness.

Just then, Malfoy placed his hand on top of Hermione's hand which was resting on her thigh. Hermione stifled a gasp as the warm, dry, comforting skin rubbed against her own. _Merlin, I'm done for, _Hermione thought, gently rubbing her thumb along Draco's hand. Malfoy's lips curved into a smile at this, and he placed his other arm across Hermione's shoulders. Sighing, she accepted this move, and lay her head back against the couch. _Who knew Malfoy was such a gentlemen, _she thought, her mind slowly drifting off to sleep.

When Hermione awoke, her head was nestled between Draco's head and shoulder. Draco's arm was still around her shoulders, his hand still on top of hers, but now his head was resting lightly on top of Hermione's head as well. Hermione tried to pull back, only to hear a gruff voice say, "Don't you dare move, Hermione Granger."

A bolt of happiness fluttered through Hermione's chest. "Well, Draco Malfoy," she said, using his full name in retaliation for his previous comment, "we'll have to move eventually."

"'Eventually' being the key word in that statement," Draco mumbled, rubbing his head on top of Hermione's.

"Alright then," she said, her tone all business, her body completely relaxed. "Then let's conduct your session this way."

Draco laughed hoarsely. "Really? After all that, I still need to have my session?"

"'All that' means that you really do need a session," Hermione said stubbornly.

_What was Harry suggesting? _Hermione wondered, her mind struggling to return some logic to this wonderful situation. _Ask personal questions?_

"Alright," Hermione said, tracing circles on Draco's hand. "Tell me about your parents."

Draco stiffened. "My parents?" he said slowly.

"Yes, your parents," Hermione said softly, worried that she'd just screwed everything up.

"Well, if this is how this session in going to work, Hermione," Draco said, turning his face so that he was looking Hermione straight in the eye, "I get to ask you questions too."

"What?" Hermione squeaked. "Why?"

"Quid pro quo," Draco said. "I get to ask you one personal question for every personal question you ask me. It's only fair." Hermione grumbled something unintelligible. "What was that, darling?" Draco smirked.

"I said," Hermione started, irritated, "that you're commandeering my session, and I'd be crazy to go along with you."

"So..." Draco waited.

"Answer my question," Hermione said grudgingly. "Then I'll answer your question."

Draco grinned. "Alright then," he started. "My parents. Well, as you know my father was a sadistic evil bastard who didn't give a damn for his only son."

Hermione worked hard to suppress a laugh; Draco had said that comment in a perfect imitation of his father's drawl. "I worked very hard to impress him," Draco said, quieter, "but nothing seemed to work."

Hermione's face fell. "I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it -"

"No," Draco interrupted. "I want you to know," he said honestly, making deliberate eye contact. "My father died a year after the Dark Lord was defeated. They found him in his study, dressed in his Death Eater robes and holding a very lethal poison bottle in his hand." Draco's eyes grew cold. "There wasn't a note, or anything, but we all knew why he did it. Why waste the parchment?"

Hermione stayed silent, giving Draco time to manage his emotions. She had read about Lucius' death in the papers, but nothing had ever suggested suicide. "My mother, on the other hand, was a wonderful woman," he said carefully. "She was clever, compassionate, and desperately wanted to leave my father and run away with me to France."

Hermione smiled. "France?"

"Yeah," Draco smiled. "She went there on a trip with her friends right after she graduated from Hogwarts, before she married my dad. Said that it was the loveliest place she'd ever been."

"France is beautiful," Hermione admitted, but she didn't think that Draco really heard her. He was too lost in his own world.

"Father promised that he'd take her there if she had a second child," Draco said. "My mother was too strong for that, though."

Hermione was confused. "Sorry, I don't understand," she admitted. "Why did she not want to have more children?"

Draco laughed dryly. "After I was born, the first thing Father did was present me to the Dark Lord as his "future second-in-command". That's all children were for my father – more men for Voldemort's ranks."

A tear slowly fell down Hermione's cheek, but she didn't want to move her hands to brush it away. She didn't want to move ever, actually. She was perfectly happy right where she was.

"Mother died last year," Draco continued. "from a very painful and drawn-out disease that affected her magical core. It's unfair, really, that someone with such an awful life should be made to die an awful death." Silence fell as Hermione struggled to find a response to Draco's statment. "So that's my sob story," Draco said, looking down at Hermione. "Now, tell me about your parents."

"Not much to say, really." Hermione laced her fingers between Draco's. "They're both dentists, but you know that."

"Yeah," Draco interrupted. "What, exactly, _is _a dentist?"

Hermione laughed. "They clean teeth."

Draco's eyes widened, and his mouth fell in an expression of horror. "Like...how?"

"They take little metals tools and rummage around in people's mouths, feeling for imperfections, and then they use other little tools to fill holes in your teeth." Hermione was desperately trying not to laugh at Draco's petrified expression.

"Is it...is it a dangerous profession?" Draco asked.

"No, not really," Hermione said, giggling. "But it's completely sanitary and everyone needs to see a dentist at least twice a year."

"Merlin Hermione," Draco said, "if I'd have known what it was your parents actually _did_, I'd have worshipped the ground you walked on. That sounds incredible!"

"I highly doubt that," Hermione laughed.

"So," Draco continued. "What does Ron think of your parents? He's met them, I assume."

A silence filled the room. "I'd rather not talk about Ronald, if it's all the same to you," Hermione said, subconsciously nuzzling Draco's neck. More silence. "And besides, that's two questions."

Draco's face became thoughtful. "So it is, darling," he said, smirking. "My apologies. Your turn."

Hermione squinted her eyes, wracking her brains for a really good question. "Aha!" she exclaimed. "What _is_ the head of your cane?"

Draco's smile fell. "Where is my cane, by the way?"Hermione gasped, and moved to stand up, only to have Draco push her down with his fingertips. "Is it in this room?" he asked, exasperated, and Hermione nodded. "Accio cane!" Malfoy said, and his badly cracked cane zoomed at him from beside the door.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Impressive wandless magic, Draco," she said.

Draco waved his hand. "Summoning charms are easy to do without a wand, it's charms like this that are hard. May I?" he asked, gesturing to Hermione's wand lying on the table. "Mine's in my suit pocket."

Looking at Draco's tattered clothing lying in the corner, Hermione sighed. She nodded, and watched as Draco mended his cane, his shimmering silver aura flowing from Hermione's wand. "Your aura," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

Draco turned around and smiled at the expression on Hermione's face. "You really think so?" Draco asked quietly.

"Of course," Hermione said, completely honestly. "It's gorgeous."

His face twisting slightly, Draco looked down at the ground. "I don't think anyone's every told me I was gorgeous, in any way," he said.

Hermione was surprised. "Well, you are," she blurted out. "Someone should tell you that more often."

Draco looked back up at Hermione, their faces now just inches apart. Hermione pulled back, suddenly realizing how close they were. "Um, so, your cane head," she said, gesturing towards the staff in Draco's hand.

Waving his hand, Draco cancelled the disillusionment charm, and Hermione gasped. "Is...is that a..."

"Chicken?" Draco said, laughing. "No. It's a phoenix."

"A phoenix," Hermione said, her hand lightly brushing over the silver bird's wings. "Why a phoenix?" she asked, still intently focussed on the cane head.

"Well, um," Malfoy cleared his throat. "It's kind-of cheesy."

"Oh, now I have to hear the reason," Hermione said, sitting up straight.

"Um, well, you know how phoenixes burst into flame when they die, and then come back to life as a baby, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said exasperated. "That's second-year course material. What about it?"

"Well, I kind of saw the phoenix as...as...myself," Draco admitted slowly. "How in the destruction of the old regime, a...a new me could be born from the ashes."

There was silence as Hermione processed Draco's statement. "That's brilliant," she said softly, noticing that their faces were again only inches apart.

"You really think so?" Draco said quietly, pulling closer.

"Absolutely," Hermione said.

And with that word, the two met in the middle for a kiss. Most kisses are answers. They're joyful, filled with happiness and excitement from both participants. This kiss, however, was special; this kiss was a question. It threw aside the melancholia of two lives, and asked in a small, quiet voice, whether these two could find happiness with each other.

When they pulled away, Hermione and Draco were both smiling. "So, Hermione," Draco started, pulling her forehead against his, "I think we're doing this backwards."

"Backwards?" Hermione mumbled, kissing Draco's nose.

"Yes, backwards," he said, trailing his fingers along the back of her neck. "I'm supposed to take you out for dinner _before _we kiss."

Hermione stopped her kisses for a moment. "Are you asking me on a date, Draco Malfoy?"

"Why of course darling," Draco replied. "That is, of course, if you can keep your ginger bloodhound off of our scent for a night."

"Damn Ron," Hermione said, resting her cheek against Draco's. "Let's have dinner."

"Tonight?" Draco asked, and Hermione could feel his lips moving on her cheek.

"Tomorrow night?" Hermione asked tentatively. "I have an engagement tonight that I can't miss." Thinking of the Weasley dinner made Hermione feel nauseous.

"Tomorrow it is then, darling," Draco whispered. "Shall I pick you up at your place?"

"No," Hermione winced, thinking of all the protective wards that she'd have to re-spell with Draco's magical signature to allow him to pass. "I'll come to your place. What's the address?"

Pulling a pen off of the table, Draco carefully wrote his address on the back of her hand in blue ink. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it. "Until tomorrow then, Miss Granger," he said, pulling himself off the couch.

Hermione felt suddenly cold without Draco beside her, and wished that she could pull him back down and make time freeze for just a while... "Don't over-exert yourself," she said, reluctantly standing up as well. "You were beaten within an inch of your life a few hours ago."

Draco turned around, doing up the buttons of his magically cleaned and repaired shirt. "I won't say thank you," he said, smiling, "because I know that you'll just interrupt me. So..._merci beaucoup, mademoiselle._"

"That's cheating," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "You can't just switch languages."

"I'll remember that for next time," Draco said, his vest and suit jacket now impeccably buttoned. Pulling Hermione closer to him, they met for one last kiss before Draco had to leave.

"Behave, alright?" Hermione whispered into Draco's shoulder.

"Of course, darling," he said, his fingers running through Hermione's hair.

Leaving Hermione feeling cold and forlorn, Draco pulled away and opened the door to leave her office. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione," he said, doffing his hat.

"Until then, Draco," she said, tentatively waving goodbye.

As soon as Draco closed the door, Hermione sank into her chair with a groan. What had she gotten herself into?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: OHMYGOSH! 50 FOLLOWERS! I'm about to die from happiness, thank you all SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO much! Hopefully you keep enjoying Draco and 'Mione's love story. :) ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Seven:

Hermione didn't know what to wear. She'd never had this dilemma before – usually going to the Weasleys' for dinner was just a place for jeans and blouses, but tonight something just felt...off. And Hermione was terrified.

"Molly's going to see it in my eyes," she moaned, pacing back and forth in front of her mirror. "She's just going to look at me and _know _that I've been with someome other than Ron...oh Merlin, I hope Fleur's not there. If anyone can see it, she'll see it."

Frantically, Hermione rushed to the kitchen and applied one of the best life lessons that a teacher had ever taught her; when in doubt, eat some chocolate. "I mean, this shouldn't be so hard!" Hermione mumbled with her mouth full. "Just walk in there and act normal...bloody hell, how do I act normal?!"

Just then, a knock echoed through Hermione's flat. _Draco! _she thought, her heart soaring. She dashed through the house, still wearing her robe and slippers, and opened the door beaming. Her smile fell when she saw Ron standing outside her door, his eyes wide.

Hermione sighed. _Of course it wouldn't be Draco. What was I thinking. _"Come in," she said to Ron, opening the door wider. "I'm just finishing getting ready."

Ron snorted. "More like just starting," he said, kissing Hermione on the cheek as he walked into her apartment.

When Ron turned his back to her, Hermione quickly wiped at her cheek. Scurrying behind Ron and into the bedroom, Hermione called out "I'll just be a minute!" before slamming and locking the door.

Disregarding her staunch rules against excess magic use (which she seemed to be breaking a lot today), Hermione cast a quick drying charm on her still-wet hair and bound it up into a ponytail. Finally just deciding on her dark jeans, a green turtleneck, and boots, Hermione dashed from her closet into the bathroom.

She heard Ron call out, "We don't wanna be late, 'Mione! Mum'll skin me!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione shouted back angrily, "I said, just a minute!" She picked up her mascara, only to see that she'd left the cap unscrewed this morning and her brush was now dry. "Damn it all," she muttered as she cast various charms on her face. "I hate beauty charms."

"'MIIIIIOOOONNNNNEEEEE," Ron said in a dreadfully sing-song voice. "Huuurrryyy uuuuuup!"

"Just a minute!" Hermione screeched. She grabbed her trench coat and scarf and stormed out of the bedroom. "There," she said angrily to Ron, throwing her arms out to either side. "Happy?"

Ron smiled. "You look lovely 'Mione. Oh, but you're missing something!" With a quick muttered spell, Hermione's engagement ring came zooming out of her briefcase pocket. Ron gently lifted Hermione's hand and slid the garish ring onto her finger. It was then that he noticed the address written in pen on her hand. "Oi, what's this?" he asked, squinting to read the now-smudged writing.

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said quickly, snatching her hand away. "Just an address to drop something off for a client."

Ron seemed placated by this, and Hermione realized that their toes were touching. He leaned over to kiss Hermione on the lips, only to have Hermione move away at the last minute and head for the door.

"I thought you said we were going to be late," she called out over her shoulder as she did up her scarf. "Get a move on Weasleby."

Ron caught up to Hermione in a few long strides and draped his arm around her shoulders. "I haven't heard that name in awhile," he laughed.

Hermione mentally kicked herself. _Damn. _

"I mean, only the Ferret ever used to call me that," Ron continued.

"The Ferret?" Hermione said icily when they stepped into the elevator. "Oh, you mean Draco Malfoy?"

Ron gave Hermione a very confused look. "Yeah, Malfoy," he said. Staring at the blinking light above the elevator doors, Ron asked aloud "Have you heard about anything he's doing? I mean, I never expected the greasy git to amount to anything, the little weasel..."

Hermione took a deep breath. _As far as Ron's concerned, you have no reason to sympathise with Draco Malfoy, _she thought to herself. _You haven't seen him in ten years. _Clearing her throat, Hermione said "Um, no. I have no idea what he's doing. Probably something productive, though."

Ron looked down at Hermione, his brow furrowed. "You feelin' alright 'Mione?" he asked, resting his palm on her forehead. "You're acting a bit odd."

The elevator doors opened and Hermione stormed out. "I'm fine," she snapped. "Just tired."

She stalked to the apparition point, Ron keeping up with her effortlessly. "Let me apparate us both 'Mione, I can do it," Ron said, his voice unusually firm.

Hermione shuddered. "You know I prefer to apparate by myself, Ron," she said quietly.

"Yeah, but it don't look good, does it?" Ron said firmly. "C'mon, just let me."

Hermione flinched away from Ron's offered arm. "Ron, really -"

"Jeeze, 'Mione," Ron said, throwing his hands up into the air. "It's like you don't want me around you anymore."

"No, it's not that Ron," Hermione desperately tried to interrupt Ron's upcoming rant. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said carefully. "You know that I just get uncomfortable side-along apparating."

Ron sighed. "Sorry 'Mione, that was pretty rude of me." He covered her hand with his. "I acted like a ruddy fool. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize Ron," Hermione said, looking her fiancée in the eye. "Maybe next time, ok?" She trailed her fingers along his cheeks, but no fire ignited in her chest. _Isn't this supposed to feel special? _she asked herself desperately. _It does with Draco..._

Ron nodded and stepped away from her. "You know the coordinates by now, right?" he asked, his lips curved into a half-smile.

Hermione laughed. "I've had them memorized since we were eighteen," she replied, her eyes not looking away from Ron's.

With another lopsided, puppy-dog grin Ron disapparated. Hermione sighed, and followed suit.

Arriving at the entrance of the Burrow, the war-time protective wards long-disabled, Ron reached for Hermione's hand. "Back into the fray," she muttered under her breath. Hermione really did love the Weasley family, but at times they could be a bit...overbearing. "Who all is here tonight?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I think Bill and Fleur were gonna try to make it -" - Hermione groaned inwardly – "and I think George and Angelina were gonna try to get here too. And, of course Harry and Ginny, and Percy and Audrey, and maybe Charlie and his new boyfriend..."

Hermione tried to block out the ever-growing list. _Damndamndamndamndamn..._

Before either Ron or Hermione could open the door, a beaming Arthur Weasley beat them to it. His ginger hair going grey but his smile still as bright as ever, Mr Weasley had positively flourished in peace time. He'd regained the weight that he'd lost during his time in the Order, and his cheeks had taken on a rosy glow. "Hermione!" he shouted, moving to embrace his favourite in-law. "Still keeping our Ronald in shape, are you?"

"I'm trying!" Hermione joked, laughing weakly as Mr Weasley moved on to embrace Ron.

The noise coming from Arthur's pleasant greeting seemed to attract Weasleys like flies to honey, and soon Hermione and Ron were at the end of a very long line of Weasleys expecting hugs. Being the last to arrive, Hermione and Ron were the anxiously awaited signal that Molly could begin putting dinner on the table, so Molly was the first to embrace the two and rush off to the kitchen.

Molly Junior arrived, pulling her younger sister Lucy, her mother Audrey, and father Percy right behind her. "Aunty 'Mione!" she shrieked, running into Hermione's arms.

"Hello Molls," Hermione said, gently patting the girl's hair before returning her to her anxious mother. "Audrey, Percy, Lucy," she said, nodding and smiling to the rest of the family.

Charlie introduced his new German boyfriend, whose name Hermione immediately forgot, and George and Angelina briefly came to hug Hermione before ushering their over-excited children out of the way. Bill and Fleur's oldest girl appeared to be next in the line, and Victoire presented Hermione with a white flower. "From our cottage," she explained. "It's lucky."

"Thank you very much Victoire," Hermione said, tucking the flower behind her ear.

The not-so-little-anymore girl gasped with pleasure, before speaking in rapid-fire French to her sister and brother beside her. The trio dashed off, revealing their tired-looking but smiling parents."'Ello 'ermione," Fleur said, kissing her on both cheeks. "Eet iz wonderful to see you again."

"Likewise," Hermione smiled, and she moved to hug Bill. _So, neither Fleur or Molly noticed anything! _Hermione thought gleefully. _Maybe I can get away with this..._

After saying hello to Harry, Ginny, and their children (a brief hello since Hermione had seen Harry only the day before, and Ron hadn't seen his best friend in months), Hermione moved into the house. She'd always loved the smell of the Burrow; it was like cinnamon, rosemary, and cloves all mixed together with warmth. It was homey and wonderful, and the smell reminded Hermione of so many happy times that she'd shared with this big extended family. Snapped out of her reverie by a spatula zooming over her head, Hermione immediately turned into the kitchen and offered to help Mrs Weasley. _I can survive this_, she thought confidently.

Three hours later, Hermione was one comment away from throwing herself off of a cliff. The dinner had been laced with subtle questions about her and Ron's marriage. First it had been Fleur, answering Hermione's questions about the children before saying "Eet will not be too long before you and Ron will 'ave the little ones, no?"

Then George had started with the innuendo, which caused Hermione to blush profusely and Ron's ears to turn a bright shade of red. Thankfully Angelina had stopped her husband's running commentary by smacking him in the head with her fork.

Just after that torture ended, however, Ron decided to question Percy about the details in setting up trust funds for children. At that point Hermione had to restrain herself from hitting her stupid fiancée with a fork.

The last straw had been when little Lily had walked up to Ginny with a puzzled expression on her face. "Mummy," she asked, "why doesn't Auny 'Mione and Uncle Ron have kids? I want cousins who are younger than me!"

For a seven-year-old, that was a pretty deep statement. "Well dear," Ginny started, lifting her little girl up onto her lap. "Aunty 'Mione and Uncle Ron aren't quite ready for kids yet."

"Do I get to be a flower girl like you promised?" Lily had asked excitedly.

"Of course, Lily-pad!" Ron had exclaimed. "We'll get you the prettiest dress around, for the prettiest little girl." Ginny winced, and Harry looked over at Hermione with a pained expression. Hermione didn't see anything – she was too busy burying her blushing face in her hands.

With every passing minute of conversation, Hermione felt the guilt on her shoulders increase. She realized that she didn't really feel guilty about kissing Draco – she and Ron were only engaged after all, not married, and Draco was absolutely wonderful – but then Hermione started feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. It was a vicious cycle.

Mercifully, at around ten o'clock the men, Angelina, and Ginny decided to duck outside for a quick round of quidditch. Audrey and Percy decided to take their kids home to bed, and the rest of the kids followed Angelina and George outside to play their own quidditch with low-flying brooms and foam bludgers. "I rue the day George invented that kiddy-quidditch set," Molly sighed. "It'll be nothing but trouble, mark my words."

Fleur, Hermione, and Mrs Weasley did the dishes in silence, the only sound the distant yells from the backyard pitch. Fleur sent the dishes flying over to the counter, Mrs Weasley sprayed them with soapy water, and Hermione dried them. Not wanting to unintentionally brag by using wandless magic, Hermione pulled out her wand and reluctantly channeled her aura through it. "So Hermione," Mrs Weasley started, "I was walking through Diagon Alley the other day, and I stopped into Westin's Wedding Supplies, just to look around..."

Hermione definitely didn't like where this was going.

"And I saw the most _wonderful _wedding invitations!' Mrs Weasley gushed. "They were about four inches by five inches, and lined with golden ribbon that moves constantly to form different bows and shapes. The font was a _beautiful _dark red and had over twelve different style options too, as well as a magnifying feature for any elderly recipients, and the envelopes were crimson with gold trim -"

"They sound gorgeous Molly," Hermione said firmly, stacking the dry dishes beside her with a flick. "But I just don't know -"

"Oh, I know you two haven't set the date yet," Molly continued, oblivious to Hermione's deadly glare. "but I hoped that maybe we could pre-order the invitations? The charms last for up to six months, and Ron was telling me that he'll get his promotion in the next couple weeks...then you can set the date!"

"Oh my goodnez!" Fleur nearly shrieked. "This iz so exciting! Did you get a copy of zee invitation, Molly?"

The awful reality of the situation hit Hermione like a bludger in the face. Ron was going to be promoted, Molly and Fleur would plan the wedding, and she and Ron would marry. One day she'd start bringing her uncontrollable children to these dinners. Her fate was planned out from the moment she had kissed Ron inside the Chamber of Secrets, and Hermione was only realizing it now. Her aura flickering around her like small lightning bolts, Hermione accidentally caused the dishes beside her to shatter.

"Goodness, Hermione," Mrs Weasley exclaimed, attempting to repair the dishes. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing!" Hermione snapped. "I'm just having my entire life planned out for me, and there's nothing wrong with that!" She began to pace, her magic still crackling around her. "After one bloody kiss and two months of dates, I decide to get bloody married! At age _eighteen. EIGHTEEN. _Do you realize how bloody young that is!?" Glasses were rattling on the shelves and Hermione's magic spiked. "What if I don't want this anymore?" she asked, ignoring the wide-eyed look that Fleur and Mrs Weasley shared. "The big Gryffindor wedding, all the attention, us having to be together all the time - it's just not what I want! What if I met someone else? What if Ron and I aren't happy together anymore?"

"But, aren't we happy, 'Mione?"

Ron's quiet voice came from behind Hermione, and she whipped around. Apparently her magic had drawn in the quidditch players, and everyone had just seen her little rant.

Hermione grew pale. She saw Harry's face hovering just behind Ron's, and Harry gave her a small but encouraging smile. "No Ron," she said softly. "I don't think we're happy anymore."

You could have cut the tension in the air with a butter knife. Hermione's brown eyes never wavered from Ron's blue ones, and nobody wanted to be the first to speak. "I'm happy with you 'Mione," Ron finally said. "If you're unhappy, I could change -"

"Don't start this Ronald," Hermione said, her anger flaring up again. "We aren't right for each other, and we both know it!"

"But 'Mione -" Ron started, moving towards her.

"Don't!" Hermione shouted, holding her hand out. "Just, don't Ron. Please," she said, much quieter.

Not able to look at any of the faces around her, too frightened to see disappointment or resentment in all these familiar, wonderful faces, Hermione dashed out the door. Hot tears spilling down her face, she raced past the apparition border on the doorstep. The last thing she heard before she disapparated was Ron's voice shouting out, "Hermione!" and Harry's quieter voice saying, "Let her go mate. C'mon, let's talk..."

It was only after she apparated that Hermione realized she hadn't arrived back in her apartment. Rather, she was outside the door of a rather dingy-looking building in Soho, the name over the door reading "The Lion's Den". Puzzled for a moment, Hermione tried to figure out where she'd ended up. Gasping, Hermione raised her left hand up to her face and attempted to read the smudged scrawl. Sure enough, she had arrived at Draco's address. "Draco," Hermione breathed, before racing through the door and up the stairs to apartment 313.

She knocked on the door frantically. "Draco?" she called out. "Draco, are you here?" Tears were still streaking down her face, and Hermione knew that she must sound like a complete emotional wreck.

Just as Hermione was about to give up, the door opened to reveal a bleary-eyed Draco Malfoy. Clad in worn, silver pajamas with an "M" embroidered on the pocket, his hair ungelled, Malfoy still looked absolutely gorgeous to Hermione. With a sob, she threw herself into his arms. "Not that I don't appreciate you coming here to give me a hug Hermione," Draco started, the concern obvious in his voice, "but why are you here at eleven o'clock at night?"

Hermione pulled away from his chest, and Malfoy saw her blurry eye makeup, the crushed white flower in her out-of-control hair, and the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Darling," he said, now very worried, "what's wrong?"

Hermione rested her head on Draco's shoulder. "Call me darling again, please," she whispered. "I need to feel loved right now."

"Of course, darling," Draco said, pulling her into his room and closing the door. "Just lemme get you onto the couch. Hush, it's ok."

Sitting himself down on the couch only after he knew Hermione was comfortable, Draco pulled her head to his chest and carded his fingers through her hair, pulling out the white flower from Victoire. "Hush darling," he murmured into her hair, breathing in her scent. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Tearfully – and at points rather incoherently – Hermione told Draco about her dinner at the Weasleys'. When she finished, Draco was silent for a moment. "Can I stay here tonight?" Hermione asked Draco quietly. "Ron's probably waiting for me at my flat, and in this state I'll undo all the good work I did tonight."

More silence. "You'll have to move Pansy's stuff off the bed," Draco said calmly, "and I'll take the couch."

"Oh Merlin," Hermione said. "I completely forgot about Pansy. I shouldn't be here," she said, jumping up abruptly and fumbling with her jacket buttons. "I'm so sorry, I -"

"Calm down darling," Malfoy said, standing up and placing a finger over Hermione's lips. "Pansy's cases are on the bed – she left me a few days ago, and hasn't come back to pick up all of her junk. It's quite annoying, really."

Hermione's heart thrilled. "I'm sorry," she said, attempting to sound sympathetic when her heart was doing summersaults in her chest.

"We were only together for the convenience of it all," Draco said quietly, resting his hands on Hermione's shoulder. "There's never really been anyone for me, ever...until you, of course."

Hermione pulled herself to Draco and crushed her lips to his. "Can I please stay?" she breathed, his lips able to feel hers forming the words.

"Only to sleep," Draco said firmly. "You aren't...you aren't in your right mind tonight darling, and I don't want you regretting anything."

He stepped away, leaving Hermione feeling cold again. "I'll take the couch," she said softly.

Draco smiled. "It's alright, I was sleeping on the couch when you arrived," he said, sprawling out on the afore mentioned piece of furniture. "The bed's through there," he said, gesturing to a semi-open door. "Just push Pansy's stuff into a corner. There's a bathroom too, if you want to get cleaned up."

Hermione smiled and pressed a chaste kiss on Draco's forehead. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Anytime darling," Draco said, before his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off to sleep.

Hermione fell asleep not long afterwards, a smile settled across her relaxed face.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews and continued support! Please R&R. :) ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Eight:

Hermione was back in the final battle. She and Ron were desperately running through the Chamber of Secrets, trying to get to the corpse of the basilisk so that Harry could face Voldemort when the dark wizard was mortal. Pulling the poisonous fangs out from the massive skull, Ron panted "'Mione, if I don't get a chance after -"

Hermione silenced him by placing her lips overtop of his. "We'll have time afterwards Ron," she said, her chest heaving. "Just get through this with me."

Grabbing Ron's hand, her other arm clutching half a dozen basilisk fangs, Hermione raced up to rejoin the battle raging above them. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought that she saw a tall, blonde man holding a cane watching from behind a giant stone snake.

Before Hermione could do a double take, the scene blurred and suddenly she found herself kneeling beside Fred's body, Ron weeping into her shoulder. She felt her own tears streaking down her face, and she moved to brush them aside and pull herself together. "You can cry darling," she heard Draco's voice say. Hermione felt the now-familiar weight of his head on her free shoulder, and the warm air from his lips as he murmured, "Let it out."

Again, everything blurred, and Hermione found herself at the Hogwarts victory party. Banners of all shapes and colours hung from the ceiling of the Great Hall, the house tables switched out for smaller round tables. Hermione was standing in the corner, talking to McGonagall who was encouraging Hermione to take her seventh year at Hogwarts. "We could do the course by correspondence," the Scottish witch suggested. "Or if more of your year wants to take or re-take your seventh year, we could set up a separate dorm and common room for you?"

Hermione nodded and smiled. "Thank you professor," she said, her semi-conscious logic telling her that almost her entire class would return to Hogwarts the next year. Just about everyone, except for Draco.

"I wasn't welcome here," Draco said, appearing beside Hermione. "You know that. My life would have been a living hell in that group common room."

"We could have made it work," Hermione said quietly.

"No," Draco said. "Not then. Only now."

Hermione turned towards the voice, but Draco had disappeared. She felt a hand tugging her sweater, and whirled around to see Ron. Still battered-looking from the battle two weeks prior, Ron got down on one knee. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, barely stifling her surprised and excited gasp. Suddenly the entire room grew quiet. "Hermione Granger," Ron said, entirely seriously. "I've spent the last seven years of my life with you all the time, and they've been the craziest years of my life." Their now-large audience chucked. "But they've also been the most wonderful times of my life, mostly because of you." Ron swallowed nervously. "'Mione, do you want to spend the rest of your life with me, making my life wonderful just by sharing your time with me?"

Hermione was crying, her eyes sparkling. _No! No! No! _her semi-conscious brain screamed. _You're eighteen! Live your life! Date more than one guy! _But, since this dream was largely based on memory, Hermione said "Yes! Absolutely and unequivocally, yes!"

Ron stood up and placed the garish Gryffindor ring on Hermione's finger. He then pulled Hermione to him in an exhilarating kiss, and the room broke into cheers. Two moments later, the now-engaged couple were mobbed by well-wishers and reporters. Hermione turned around to accept yet another embrace, only to smell the now-familiar vanilla and cinnamon smell that surrounded Draco. "Come away with me," he murmured. "Leave this, run away with me."

"I can't," Hermione whispered. "I have promises that I need to keep."

"Please," Draco pleaded quietly. "You're my last chance, darling. My last chance..."

"What? What do you mean, Draco?" But when Hermione pulled away, Draco was gone. "Draco?" she called out. "Has anyone seen Draco?" she asked the room. But suddenly it was as if no one could hear or see Hermione's panic, and no one cared.

"Draco Malfoy!" she said loudly. "Has anyone seen Draco Malfoy!"

Turning around, Hermione saw that Ron was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "Oh Ron, you can hear me!" Hermione said excitedly. "Have you seen Draco?"

"What would you want with Ferret?" Ron asked, his expression confused. "It's me that you love. Just stay with me 'Mione..."

Hermione's eyes snapped open. She was drenched in sweat, sheets tangled all around her, and it took a moment for Hermione to figure out that she wasn't in her bed. "Merlin," she mumbled to herself. "I need to find Draco."

Swinging her feet off the bed, Hermione stretched her arms over her head. The feeling of smooth fabric on her skin caused Hermione to look down, only to see that she was dressed in faded emerald pyjamas with an embroidered "M" on the pocket. "I stole his pyjamas, wonderful," Hermione groused, looking around for her turtleneck and jeans.

When Hermione stood up completely, a small bell rang. With lightning-fast, long-practiced reflexes, Hermione backed into the nearest corner and jumped down to a crouch. Holding her hands in front of her, feeling her aura pooling in her fingertips, Hermione was ready for any threat. It was a relief when a silver ferret materialised in front of her.

"Morning darling," the patronus projected. Hermione smiled and lowered her hands. "I had to go to work this morning, unfortunately – not all of us get the weekends off like an unnamed lucky psychologist – but there's some cereal in the kitchen and your clothes are cleaned and folded on the dresser. I don't have a house-elf, so I hope that you can dress and feed yourself." She could picture the smirk Draco would be wearing as he criticized her ability to fend for herself. "Feel free to use the shower, freshen up, do whatever girls do. I'll see you around eight for dinner though, yeah? You obviously know the way to my flat...until then, darling."

And with that, the ferret disappeared. Shuffling around, Hermione had a shower and got dressed. "I'm taking advantage of your hospitality Draco," she said to herself in the empty flat. "If I went back to my place I'd most likely by lynched by a mob of angry gingers."

Hermione had a towel around her head and a toothbrush in her mouth when she heard angry knocking at the door. "Draco Malfoy," a high voice screeched. "I know you're in there you lousy ferret! Let me in!"

Hermione grabbed her wand and stood beside the door, toothbrush still in her mouth. "I WANT MY STUFF BACK!" the voice said, obviously getting more irritated. "DON'T MAKE ME BREAK DOWN THIS DOOR DRACO, 'CAUSE YOU KNOW I'VE DONE IT BEFORE!"

Putting her wand in her pocket and taking her toothbrush out of her mouth, Hermione opened the door slowly. "Sorry," she said sweetly, smiling a toothpaste-y smile, "but Mister Malfoy isn't in at the moment. Can I take a message?"

The irate face of Pansy Parkinson slowly shifted into an expression of disbelief. Pansy had definitely changed since Hogwarts; wizard piercings whirred, blinked, and buzzed in just about every place you could put a piercing, and Hermione saw the moving head of a snake tattoo curling around her neck. Her black hair was cut short into a pixie cut, and her brown eyes were rimmed with eyeliner. "Granger?" she said slowly. "How'd he manage to get you into his bed so quickly? I wasn't even gone a day and now he's dallying with Gryffindors?"

Hermione's face turned beet red, and she felt her magic buzzing in her fingers. "I'm just borrowing his flat for the day since mine is under renovation." She winced mentally for the lie. _Then again, this is Pansy Parkinson. I don't really care about lying to her, she's bloody impossible. _"So, is there anything I can do for you Pansy, or are you just going to stand in the hallway?"

Pansy's mouth closed with an audible "snap", and her self-righteous sneer reappeared on her face. "Well, Granger, I was just coming to get my stuff," she leered. "That is, if the git hasn't burnt it all by now."

"I believe your cases are in the bedroom," Hermione said coolly. "Want me to get them for you?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Pansy said, roughly shoving past Hermione. "I know my way around this flat by now."

The Slytherin stalked into Malfoy's bedroom – _Do all Slytherins stalk? _Hermione wondered. _Snape, Malfoy, Pansy..._ – and Hermione heard a dry laugh. "Borrowing the flat my backside," Pansy called out. "This bed looks pretty used, Granger."

This time Hermione's aura snapped around her, sending flashes of green light across the room. "Watch your tongue Pansy," Hermione said lowly. "I could hex it off from two blocks away, if I really wanted to."

Hermione's threat had the intended effect, and Pansy's snide comments stopped. Following the Slytherin girl into the bedroom, Hermione watched Pansy shuffle the cases and attempt to cast shrinking and featherlight charms on her numerous bags. Seeing Pansy nearly transfigure her hatbox into a gerbil, Hermione sighed. With a flick of her wrist, all of Pansy's bags were shrunken and impossibly light.

Pansy whirled around to face Hermione, rage and surprise flickering through her dark eyes. "What was that for?" she hissed. "Did you hex them or omething? Turn all my clothes into dirt like the filthy little Gryffindor mudblood that you are?"

Her eyes darkening, Hermione said "I was just helping you Pansy. But, if you'd rather turn your bags into gerbils that I'd be happy to undo my perfectly sound charms."

It took Pansy a moment to fully process what Hermione had said. "So, they're not hexed?" she said slowly.

"They're entirely normal, I assure you," Hermione said, annoyed. "Honestly, you Slytherins have trust issues..."

Loading her miniature trunks into her pockets, Pansy nodded. "We find everything suspicious," she said. "That's why we typically outlive all you brash, trusting Gryffindors."

_Merlin, ten years after graduation and it still feels like we're first-years fresh after the sorting_, Hermione thought to herself. _These house rivalries really are stupid. _

Clearing her throat, Hermione decided to attempt starting a civil conversation. "Well, Draco will be happy to have the space in his bedroom back," she said, wincing at how stupid she sounded.

Pansy smirked. "I'm sure you'll fill it up with all your stuff soon," she drawled, malicious laughter filling up her eyes.

"Why are you so sure that Draco and I are together?" Hermione asked Pansy curiously. "I mean, I'm a – what did you call me? – a filthy little Gryffindor mudblood, and he's a pureblood Slytherin. What makes you think Malfoy would want anything to do with me?"

Pansy sighed. "You really don't know him at all, do you?" she said, her voice sad. She laughed bitterly. "In the end I guess I didn't really know him very well either. The war completely and utterly changed him, Granger. I mean, he still puts on his mask every day for work, pretending to be the great _Lord Malfoy_, elitist and arrogant as ever. But really, he's broken. There's something...something in him that's missing." Pansy loaded the last trunk into her pocket. "The only times I ever see him happy are when he's with his muggle friends, and I suppose you're almost a muggle. You'll do."

Brushing past Hermione again, her undone jacket flapping against her legs, Pansy walked back to Draco's door. "You won't be seeing me again, if you're worried," Pansy said, the comment not intended to be hurtful. "Draco and I are completely finished with each other."

Hermione snorted. "You're never really finished with someone if you love them," she said.

Pansy smiled, her eyes sad. "Exactly," she said as she started to close the door. "I hope that you can fix him, Granger. If you can't...well, I think you're his last chance at finding love."

Hermione's smile fell. She listened to the clicking of Pansy's heels as she walked down the hallway, the sound getting quieter and quieter as the Slytherin got further and further away. The uncanny connection between Pansy's last statement and her dream sent Hermione's head spinning. Rushing into the bathroom, Hermione said aloud "I need to talk to Harry. Now."

A few moments later, Hermione found herself inside a nearby public telephone booth. Only the booths in the tourist areas of London were still red, so Hermione was inside of a normal, boring, black telephone booth.

Finally finding the right denomination of coins, Hermione dialed Harry's number. Her friend picked up on the third ring. "Hello?" he said tentatively, obviously not recognizing the number.

"Harry!" Hermione said loudly. "It's 'Mione."

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Harry said, exhaling loudly. "We were all so worried! But...you aren't calling from your phone?"

Hermione grimaced. "No," she answered truthfully. "I'm in a public booth."

"Oh." Harry sounded surprised. "That's a first."

"Shut up," Hermione snapped.

"Sorry," Harry said defensively.

Hermione sighed. "Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped," she admitted. "I don't want to make more people mad at me."

There was a silence. "Yeah," Harry said finally. "That was pretty dramatic last night 'Mione."

"I didn't intend for the whole bloody Weasley family to see that!" she hissed into the phone, instinctively checking over her shoulder. "I took your bloody advice and decided to call it off! I just...I just wanted Ron to hear it."

"Well, Ron heard you," Harry said slowly.

"...and?" Hermione prodded. "I heard you trying to talk to him before I disapparated. Did he get the message?"

Harry sighed, and Hermione could almost see him rubbing his face. "Well, not exactly," Harry said cautiously.

Hermione felt her heart sink into her stomach. "What do you mean, "not exactly"?"

"Me and Gin tried to talk to him 'Mione," Harry said, sounding a bit frantic, "but he convinced himself that...that you were just upset over having to quit your job. That you still loved him, and he just needed to apologize."

"Damn," Hermione said, hitting her forehead against the glass of the booth. "Damn. Damn. Damn."

"You're going to give yourself a headache 'Mione if you keep hitting your head like that," Harry said.

"Sorry." Hermione winced, already regretting her actions. "So, where is the ginger menace?"

"'Mione, he's still your friend," Harry started, obviously concerned.

"Shut up!" Hermione said, too loudly. "I know. He's just...he's just not the person I need to see right now, ok?"

"Have you talked to your mysterious, charming client?" Harry asked.

"Erm...yes. Last night." Hermione squeaked.

"Oh Merlin 'Mione, you didn't -"

"No, of course not!" Hermione interrupted waspishly. "I'm not quite that stupid, thank you very much."

"Alright, sorry," Harry apologized. "I just worry for you."

"I know." Hermione sighed. Now she really was going to get a headache. "I told him about what I said to Ron, and he still wants to have dinner with me tonight."

"Ah," Harry said slowly. "And...you think that's smart?"

"No," Hermione said sharply. "I don't think that any of this situation is "smart". I'm bloody exhausted, I'm bloody confused, and I can't go back to my flat in fear of being attacked by an army of gingers seeking revenge on me for hurting their family."

Harry was quiet. "Well, I have some good news," he said hopefully.

"Do tell," Hermione said dryly.

"None of the Weasleys are at your flat right now," Harry said happily. "Most of them want to give you your space, and Ron's still sleeping off the massive hangover that he gave himself last night."

Hermione winced. Whenever Ron started drinking things usually got very, very bad very, very quickly. "So, it's safe for me to go home?" she asked in disbelief.

"For now, yeah," Harry assured her. "I'd uh, I'd re-key the wards though. You don't want Ron barging in on you and your mystery client."

"Harry," Hermione said, annoyed, "it's not like that!"

"Ok 'Mione, sure." Harry yawned. "Sorry, I was up all night trying to convince Ron that you were serious about what you said. I need to go back to bed."

"Oh dear, I'm sorry!" Hermione said, genuinely concerned. "I didn't mean to wake you!"

"It's fine – yawn – it's fine 'Mione. Just...just deal with this quickly, ok? You don't want to hurt anyone more than you absolutely have to."

Harry hung up with a click. "Just because you're the subject of hundreds of prophecies doesn't mean that you have to word all your advice like Trelawney!" Hermione snapped, practically throwing the phone back into the receiver. "Damn," she said, resting her head on the glass. "Now things are really going to get interesting."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So, Chapter Nine...exciting, hey? Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews and alerts - every time I check my inbox, my brain goes all fuzzy and I feel like I should go try walking on water. Thanks so much for reading! ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Nine:

This was the second time in twenty-four hours that Hermione found herself looking for chocolate in her kitchen. Ruffling through cupboards and shuffling through drawers, Hermione's search for chocolate was a wonderful way to mask her jitters and try to stop her hands from shaking. Feelings of guilt, anger, and something that must have been love had been warring inside of her for at least forty-eight hours, and Hermione was overwhelmed.

"Maybe I should just become a lesbian," Hermione said aloud to her empty flat. "Boys are far too much trouble." Her mind drifted to memories of Draco's bare chest. "Nope," she said quietly. "On second thought, I'm definitely not becoming a lesbian."

Not finding any chocolate, Hermione moved into her bedroom to look herself over in the mirror again. Even though she'd gotten dressed an hour and a half ago, Hermione was continuously fussing over her appearance – a very un-Hermione-ish thing to do.

Unable to look at her red dress in the same way after her fiasco with Ron, Hermione had decided on her green dress. She didn't know where she and Draco would be going for dinner, but in her opinion it was better to be over-dressed than under-dressed. A dark emerald, this dress hugged her upper body tightly and flowed into loose, silky fabric just above her hips. Complimenting the dark green with silver jewellery and high heels, Hermione managed to make herself feel beautiful. "Urf, I just _hate _my hair," she mumbled to her mirror, fussing with various elegant berets that she used to pin it into an updo. "It just never cooperates."

A beeping noise filled the apartment, and Hermione knew that her timing charm had gone off; it was 7:58. Taking a deep breath, Hermione counted to five. _This will be fun, _she thought. _Just relax. _And with a crack she disapparated.

Knowing exactly where she was going, it took Hermione moments to arrive at Draco's apartment. Tentatively, she knocked on the door. "Draco?" she called out.

"Just a moment darling," Draco shouted from behind the door. Hermione heard a loud crash followed by a very loud swear.

"Is everything ok?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"Yup...everything's just great..." Another swear.

Just as Hermione was about to unlock the door with her aura, Draco opened it from the other side, an easy smile on his face. His hair was left ungelled, and he was looking very smart in a dark grey suit and crimson tie. Although it was subtle, Hermione felt that the lovely red of the tie contrasted with Draco's gorgeous grey eyes, making him look particularly handsome. She could feel the tension that had built within her throughout the day slowly dissipate, and all Hermione could look at was Draco's smile.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that Draco was holding a single white flower in his hand. Hermione gasped. "Oh Draco, is that -"

"It's the flower you were wearing in your hair last night," Draco said, blushing. "I didn't know if it was important to you or not, and I realized that you'd left it here..."

"But it looks so...so..." - Hermione searched for the word desperately - "fresh!"

Draco smiled. "Didn't you take herbology, darling? If I recall correctly you were in my class when Sprout covered revitalizing and freshening charms."

Hermione's cheeks turned red. "Oh, of course, I apologize. I've just never had much time for flowers."

"Really?" Draco looked genuinely surprised at her statement. "I'd have thought that you'd be the type to love flowers."

"I do!" Hermione exclaimed. "I just...I just don't really have the time for them, or a garden to grow them in."

"Ah," Draco said. "I see. May I?" he asked, gesturing to the flower and then to her hair.

"Oh, uh, of course," Hermione stuttered.

Draco leaned over, placing one hand on Hermione's cheek, and using the other to place the flower securely in her updo. "There," he said, his eyes meeting Hermione's.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, her nerves tingling at the way Draco's hand was still resting on her cheek. Without thinking, she closed the small gap between their faces and pressed her lips to his. Draco responded enthusiastically, slanting his mouth over hers.

A few moments later, the two pulled away. Panting slightly, Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh no," she squeaked. "Now look what I've done!"

Draco looked mildly panicked. "What?" he asked hurriedly. "What's wrong?"

Hermione barely managed to squeak out the words; "I've gotten lipstick all over you."

Reaching a hand up to his lips, Draco laughed when his fingertips came away stained a lovely shade of red. "That's not so bad," he drawled, closing his door and taking Hermione's arm. "You'll just have to clean it off of me."

"What was all the crashing?" Hermione asked curiously, smiling as Draco started to blush.

"Um, it's embarassing."

"You can be honest with me." She batted her eyelashes at him playfully.

Draco sighed. "Fine. Your flower was in a vase. The vase is now in pieces. Happy?"

Hermione laughed lightly. "I think I like it better without the vase," she said thoughtfully, reaching up to touch the flower in her hair.

Draco positively beamed as he lead Hermione into the elevator. "I'm glad it worked out," he said.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked tentatively when they made it down to the ground floor. "I didn't know what to wear, so..."

"Oh don't worry darling," Draco said. "You're perfect. You look beautiful, you know."

Hermione's step faltered. _Beautiful. He called me beautiful. _"Um, thanks," she said softly, brushing some lipstick off of the blonde's cheek.

"I'm just being honest, darling," Draco said, looking down at Hermione. "You'd look gorgeous in anything, but Slytherin colours really suit you."

The very tips of Hermione's ears turned very red very quickly. _Oh Merlin, I didn't even realize! The colour scheme..._ Thinking quickly, Hermione countered "Well, Gryffindor red makes you look quite handsome. It really brings out your eyes." She winced, and felt like crawling into a dark hole. _How could I have possibly sounded more stupid?_

Draco's eyebrows shot up, and he smiled softly. "Thank you Hermione," he said.

The two walked in silence for several minutes, content in the mere presence of one another. Hermione only decided to speak up when they passed the apparition alleyway. "So...I take it that the restaurant is somewhere close?" she asked.

"No," Draco said, smirking. "I'm making you walk to Canterbury." Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Ouch!" The Slytherin winced. "Fine, yes it's close."

Smiling smugly, Hermione asked "What type of restaurant?"

"Italian." Draco didn't notice Hermione stiffen beside him. "The best place around. I was frankly relieved that we could even get a reservation."

As Draco continued to speak about the restaurant, Hermione tried to calm herself. _I can't avoid Italian restaurants forever, _the logical side of her personality said crisply. _And this will be a completely different experience. _

_Yes, _her illogical side agreed, _but it's bad luck! This could be a total disaster!_

_I was running that risk anyways! It could be a disaster no matter where we ate!_

_...and now I'm arguing with myself. Brilliant._

Hermione was brought back to reality when Draco called her name. "Um, Hermione? Did you hear what I just said?"

Embarrassed, Hermione apologized. "Sorry Draco, I just zoned out for a second. Total accident, won't happen again. What did you ask?"

"Well," Draco said reluctantly, "I know that you don't use magic on principal, but this evening –just for tonight, as an experiment – I'm going to try not using magic. So, could you maybe remind me if I accidentally slip?"

Hermione was flabbergasted. No one had ever understood her reluctance to use magic before, let alone embraced it. But here was Draco Malfoy, her former nemesis and current lover – _Lover? _Hermione's brain panicked. _Isn't there a different word for it? _– going without magic for her sake.

Stopping her and Malfoy's walk with a gentle pull on his arm, Hermione turned to face her date. "Thank you," she said seriously, putting her hand on his cheek. "I can't describe how much that means to me, that you're trying."

Draco gently pushed his face into Hermione's palm. "I figured it was worth a try," he said quietly, pulling Hermione in for a kiss.

Hermione broke it off much faster this time, and playfully hit Draco's arm. "At this rate we'll miss our reservation," she said coyly, re-starting their walk.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course, my mistake."

A few moments later they arrived at the restaurant. It was a beautiful, small place with lovely overhead light fixtures, white tablecloths, and small, ornate candles on every table. "This is beautiful," Hermione breathed.

"It's an entirely muggle restaurant," Draco whispered into her ear.

Hermione beamed. "This is wonderful, thank you!"

"You haven't even sat down yet!" he joked, following the hostess to their table.

"I can tell already." Hermione smiled.

After the two had taken their seats and ordered martinis, Hermione heard music start. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that there was a small band in the corner. "Oh, live music!" she exclaimed.

Draco looked puzzled. "What, is there dead music?" he asked, very confused.

Hermione laughed. "No, silly! Live music is when the band is actually _there_, and you aren't just listening to a recording!"

"Oh," Draco said, his brow un-furrowing. "I get it."

After ordering their dinners – throwing caution and the "girl code" to the wind, Hermione had ordered a hearty pasta – Draco placed his fingers under his chin in a thoughtful manner.

"What?" Hermione asked somewhat nervously. "You have that devious Slytherin look again."

"Can we continue our questions and answers session, Doctor?" Draco asked innocently.

Hermione arched her eyebrow. "If you wish, Mr Komodo," she said, sarcasm practically dripping off of her lips.

Draco grinned. "If I recall correctly, it's my turn to ask a question."

Looking thoughtful, Hermione smiled slyly. "Nope," she said smugly, crossing her arms. "It's mine."

"...oh?" Draco said, his statement turning into more of a question.

"Yes," Hermione said, revelling in her moment of power. "_I _asked you about your cane, and then _you _asked me to dinner."

Thinking for a moment, then putting on a false scowl, Draco ground out, "As always, you are correct Miss Granger. Although I don't think that I technically _asked _you..."

"Alright," Hermione said, interrupting Malfoy, "first question; what's your favourite colour?"

Draco arched his eyebrow. "Deep, darling. Very deep," he said dryly. "I'd have to say...orange." Hermione looked genuinely surprised. "What?" Draco asked playfully. "Orange is a lovely colour! It represents the fall, and that happens to be my favourite season."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Draco wagged his finger back and forth. "Ah-ah-ah, my question now. What's your favourite band?"

"Muggle or wizard?"

"Either. Both. Whatever."

"Umm...my favourite wizard band would have to be Ministry of Magic," Hermione admitted reluctantly, "and my favourite muggle band would probably be Coldplay."

"Ministry of Magic?" Draco looked disgusted. "Really?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "Who's your favourite?"

"_Not_ Ministry of Magic," Draco insisted. "I prefer...much slower, gentler music."

"Like Celestina Warbeck?" Hermione said snidely, smirking. "Her music is quite relaxing."

"Merlin no!" Draco exclaimed, his eyes wide. "I'd rather listen to the Fat Lady sing!"

This playful banter continued for much of dinner. Both people felt that darker, hard-hitting questions lurking beneath the surface of their bright chatter, but neither one wanted to be the first to breach their bubble of happiness. Finally, Hermione decided that she just had to suck it up and go for it.

Sipping her wine delicately, Hermione waited until Draco raised his glass to his lips before saying "So, Pansy dropped by your flat today while I was there."

Draco's eyes bulged as he nearly choked on his wine. Coughing violently into his napkin, it took Draco a moment to get the breath to ask "And...how did that – cough – go? I see – cough- that you're still – cough – alive..."

Hermione smiled. "It actually wasn't that bad," she admitted. "Pansy just wanted to get her stuff. She said that she wasn't coming back."

Draco nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. What surprises me is that you didn't kill each other! Pansy still takes house rivalries very seriously...did you see her tattoo?"

Nodding her head, Hermione sighed. "Pansy was such a lovely girl. Now she has all that wizard metal in her face, whirring and buzzing and flashing..."

"Did you notice her eyebrow piercing?" Draco asked. "The one that looked like a small rose?"

Hermione took on a thoughtful expression. "Yes, I believe so. Why?"

"It's a mood-rose," Draco explained, sipping his wine once again. "The charm feels her mood and changes colours accordingly."

"What does red indicate?" Hermione asked.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Red?" he asked, startled. "You're positive it was red?"

Hermione nodded, a little frustrated. "Yes. It was black at first, but it slowly turned red the more that we talked."

Smiling, Draco took Hermione's hand. "Red," he said quietly, "means that she's happy. I haven't seen her rose red in...well, in years." He patted her hand. "Well done."

"It wasn't me," Hermione said surprised. "She showed either hatred or mild disdain throughout the entire encounter. I doubt that I could have possibly made her happy."

Draco's eyes looked at something past Hermione. "Pansy was never one for showing how she really felt. That's why I encouraged her to get the mood-rose."

When the live band started playing another song, Hermione gasped and whirled around in her chair. "Oh my gosh!" she gushed. "I haven't heard this song in ages!"

Malfoy looked interested. "What song?" he asked.

"It's called "Once Upon a December", and it was written for the muggle children's movie "Anastasia". It's just gorgeous, don't you think?" Hermione was humming along to the slow, waltz-like tune.

Draco grinned wolfishly. "Care to dance, darling?" he offered, extending his hand.

Hermine smiled. "I would love to, darling."

Standing up and following Draco to the small cleared area of the restaurant that served as a dance floor, Hermione continued to sing. "Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember. And a song, someone sings once upon a December."

Draco rested his hand on Hermione's waist and took her right hand. They started waltzing. "This is an awfully melancholy song, isn't it darling?"

Dreamily, Hermione looked up. "Mmhmm. I guess," she admitted. "But it's so beautiful!"

Listening thoughtfully to the song, Draco pulled Hermione closer, their feet still moving in time with the music. "I can see why you like this music, darling. It's lovely."

Hermione rested her head on Draco's shoulders. "Mmhmm, that it is," she said softly.

The song moved into it's crescendo, and Draco spun Hermione out and back to him dramatically. It was only then that the witch and wizard noticed that other couples had joined them on the dance floor, and were mimicking their movements. "Oh goodness," Malfoy said quietly, feigning shock. "Looks like we've started a trend."

Hermione laughed. "Who cares about the other people?" she asked Malfoy, her head nestled on his shoulder. "All I care about is us."

The song ended with a final, beautiful high note, and all the couples clapped and returned to their seats.

After sitting in amiable silence for a while, Hermione put down her wine glass more forcefully than she should have. Draco's eyebrow rose. "I've never been one to skirt around issues -"

"No you definitely are not," Draco interrupted.

Hermione gave Draco a pointed glare that clearly said "let me finish". "As I was saying," she continued, "I really feel like we need to get rid of this elephant in the room." Draco leaned forwards in his chair, his face neutral. "What do you want to get out of this relationship?" Hermione blurted out. "Is this just...just a temporary thing for you?"

Draco suddenly looked as if Hermione had punched him. "Oh Merlin, did I give you that impression?" he asked, taking her hand in both of his.

"Um, well, no," Hermione sputtered. "I just, uh, wanted to know what you wanted." She grimaced. _God I sound stupid._

"Do you want total honesty?" Draco asked bluntly. Hermione nodded. Taking a deep breath, Draco formed his answer carefully. "I want someone to grow old with." All the breath left Hermione's body in a whoosh. "I don't really care about children, or bonding, or whatever else young people seem so focussed on. Most of my life I've just wanted to find that one person that...that...completed me." Hermione's eyes were getting watery, but Draco's eyes continued to stare straight into her soul. He took another very deep breath. "The day that I walked into your office, I knew that you were perfect. Fiesty, clever, caring...you're really perfect Hermione."

Hermione's head was spinning. "Draco, I -"

"I'm not done yet," Draco said quickly, reaching up to brush away a tear that had fallen from Hermione's eye. "I'll understand if you don't want me, or if you're too committed with Ron to look at someone like me -"

Hermione placed her finger against Draco's lips. "Shush," she said softly. "Don't. Please, don't."

Draco's eyes looked hopeful. It was Hermione's turn to take a deep breath while she formed her response. Before she could get a word in edgewise, however, Draco said "Hermione Granger, I think I might love you."

Hermione's heart did summersaults inside of her chest, and she heard the blood rushing in her ears. Draco continued. "I know that it's only been a couple days, but I think that...that you're the girl for me. All my life I've been making the wrong choices." Draco's eyes flicked to his left forearm. "But...but with you, Hermione, I feel like I can finally make the right choice."

Unable to form a proper sentence, let alone a coherent word at this point, Hermione just lunged across the table and kissed Draco passionately, her hands still entwined with his.

When they broke apart, their very amused waiter was standing beside the table, the bill in his hands. "I assumed that you two would like this now," he said quietly, smiling.

"Thank you," Draco said, clearing his throat and blushing.

Hermione and Draco left the restaurant with fingers laced together and her head on his shoulder. As they walked back to Draco's flat, Hermione looked up and gasped. "Look!" she cried out. "You can see the stars!"

Thanks to light pollution, seeing the stars in London was a very rare occurrence. Draco's eyes widened as he looked up. "So you can," he agreed, resting his head on top of Hermione's.

There was a silence as the two looked up at the sky. Draco cleared his throat. "So, um, darling," he started nervously, "since your flat is probably surrounded by an army of irate Weasleys, you're welcome to stay at my place again."

Hermione smiled, and a faint blush crept up her cheeks as she planned out her next sentence. "Well, I'll stay on one condition," she said teasingly.

"Yes, darling?"

"Neither of us sleep on the couch."

"So...oh. Oh."

"Mmhmm."

"You're...sure? You're positive that's what you really want?"

Hermione placed a kiss on Draco's lips and nodded. "I'm positive. There's only one thing that I want in the whole entire world right now."

"A puppy?" Draco joked.

Hermione grinned, her smile filling her eyes with a vibrant sparkle. "Nope. All I want is you, Draco Malfoy. You, and only you."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Just a quick warning, there's some stronger language close to the end of this chapter. Nothing really that bad, but worse than "bloody hell". :) Please R&R! ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Ten:

When Hermione woke up, she felt like she could walk on water. The sunlight filtering through the window forced her to open her eyes, but she broke into a smile immediately. Her view was wonderful, the sunlight shining over a peacefully sleeping Draco Malfoy, his eyelids fluttering as he was dragged out from his deep sleep.

A grin split Hermione's face as she drank in Draco's bare chest and relaxed face. "You are beautiful," Hermione murmured, tracing her fingers lightly over his bare skin.

She felt Draco stir beneath her hands. "Close the window, darling..." Draco mumbled, pulling his pillow over his head.

Hermione looked at her watch on the bedside table and laughed. "Draco," she said in a sing-song voice, "it's almost noon."

"Mphf." Draco turned towards Hermione, his eyes opened blearily. "Really?"

"Yup," Hermione confirmed. "You're officially late for work."

"It's Sunday, right?" Draco asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes," Hermione said slowly. "But you worked on Saturday, why wouldn't you work on Sundays?"

Malfoy traced his fingertips over Hermione's puzzled face. "I'm a teacher, darling," he said. "I teach wizard children before they go to Hogwarts – reading, writing, basic math, all of the subjects that Hogwarts so painfully neglects. Saturday is my tutoring day for students who need extra help. Sunday is my day off."

It took Hermione a moment to fully absorb what Draco had said. "You...you teach?" she asked, completely surprised.

"Yes," Malfoy said, grinning. "I've been told that I'm actually rather good at it."

Hermione laughed. "Better than Snape, anyhow."

Malfoy hit Hermione with his pillow. "Shut up, lion."

"Slimy snake."

Draco pulled Hermione in for a kiss, neither of them wanting to get out of bed and return to their tumultuous, frenzied realities. Revelling in the beauty of each other, Hermione and Draco both felt content and truly happy for the first time in years. They weren't running, they weren't hiding, they weren't fighting, and they had each other. What more could they ask for?

Unfortunately, their golden moment was shattered by Draco's phone ringing. Draco moved to answer it. "Don't get it," Hermione pleaded in a hoarse voice, her eyes locked on Draco's. "Just stay."

Smiling, Draco kissed Hermione's forehead. "I'll be right back, I promise." Holding her hand 'till the last possible moment, Draco stood up, grabbed a dressing gown, and followed the noise of the ringing phone out to the kitchen.

Hermione sighed and rolled over to put on her watch and earrings. She could hear a muffled, "Bloody hell, really?" coming from the kitchen, followed by the loud crash of the phone being slammed into the receiver.

Sitting up, her aura gathering in her fingertips, Hermione pulled the covers up to cover her chest. "Draco?" she called out. "What's wrong?"

Draco stormed back into the bedroom, muttering and throwing various articles of clothing around. "Draco," Hermione said more insistently. "Who was that on the phone?" When Draco still didn't respond, Hermione stood up, the sheets still draped around her. "_Draco_," she said sharply. "If you don't stop pacing around and scaring me half to death, I will hex you into next week."

Draco froze. "You wouldn't actually."

Hermione arched her eyebrow. "Try me."

Sighing, Draco leaned against his dresser. "That was Blaise," he said hesitantly. "Apparently...apparently the Ministry is trying to pin Millicent with 'breaching the Statute of Secrecy'."

Hermione contained a gasp. A successful sentencing for that charge would mean fifteen years in Azkaban. "Millicent?" she asked disbelievingly. "Millicent _Bulstrode_?" Draco nodded. "She wouldn't hurt a fly!" Hermione protested. "She went against her Death Eater father during the final months of Voldemort's reign! She was an essential follower of the Light!"

Draco nodded vehemently. "And now they're accusing her of apparating directly in front of muggles, then obliviating them."

"Convenient story," Hermione said, her voice scorching. "No witnesses, no one would remember anything. How does the Ministry claim they received this information?"

"They claim that an anonymous house elf witnessed this from inside a nearby wizard residence."

Hermione groaned. "And house-elves still can't be cross-examined – their testimonies are written out beforehand and read to the court. Damn." She glared at the floor.

"We'll get her out though," Draco said, his jaw set. "She and I got Blaise out, Blaise and I can get her out."

Now dressed, Draco moved to rush out of the apartment and storm the ministry single-handedly. "Draco!" Hermione called out, grabbing his arm before he could leave the bedroom.

Eyes burning with cold fire, Draco turned on Hermione. "Don't try to stop me," he said fiercely.

Hermione matched his passion. "I won't," she snapped. "I'm trying to stop you from making a total fool out of yourself by challenging the Minister to a duel."

Draco deflated. "You're usually right about these things," he mumbled, moving to sit down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. "You're the logical one."

Hermione dragged herself and her sheet-dress back over to the bed. Placing a hand on Draco's neck, she started talking. "I have a friend who might be able to help you figure things out." Draco perked up. "I'll need to talk to him though, and I want you to promise not to run off anywhere." Malfoy nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Now where the hell are my clothes?" Hermione demanded, looking around for her dress.

Malfoy snorted. "Beats me." Hermione glared at him, and Draco balked a bit. "Take this," he said, throwing one of his button-up dress shirts at her.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, hastily putting on the shirt. "Your flat is freezing, by the way," she called out over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen. "Can I use your phone?"

"Go for it!" Draco shouted from the other room. "I'm going to have a shower while you talk to your friend."

Hermione waited until she heard running water before she dialed Harry's work number. After a couple rings, she heard a professional and deep voice say, "Hello, this is Potter speaking."

"Harry!" Hermione whispered loudly, covering her mouth and the receiver with her hand. "It's me, 'Mione."

"Merlin 'Mione," Harry said, his voice sounding lighter and far less serious. "I thought you were a client, or something."

"On Sunday?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Well, I didn't recognize the number, and -"

"Never mind, I'm sorry I asked," Hermione grumbled. "Harry, I need a favour."

"One sec, James just came in." Hermione heard Harry place the phone over his shoulder and talk softly to his oldest son. "Sorry," he apologized, lifting the phone back up again. "I figured that this was a private matter."

"Yes," Hermione said hesitantly. "You know about wizarding law as well as muggle law, right?"

"Of course," Harry scoffed. "As crooked and biased as wizarding law is, I studied it. Why do you ask? Are you in trouble?"

The concern in Harry's voice touched Hermione. "No," she said quickly, easing her friend's fears. "But my mysterious client is."

"Ah," Harry said slowly. "Is it...is this client involved with the wrong sort of people?"

"No, no, no!" Hermione insisited. "His friend is being wrongly accused."

"You know it would really help me 'Mione if you could tell me this man's name," Harry said, deadly serious.

Hermione sighed, and closed her eyes. "Promise not to freak out," she said softly.

She heard Harry's intake of breath on the other side of the call. "Um...I promise?" he said reluctantly.

"My mystery client is Draco Malfoy," Hermione said quickly, waiting for Harry to start yelling. All that Hermione could hear was Harry's breathing as she waited anxiously for a reaction – any reaction! – to show her that Harry hadn't simply died of a heart attack. "Harry?"

"You're...you're...an _item_ with the _FERRET_?" he hissed into the phone. "Of all the bloody people you had to get involved with -"

"Stop right there," Hermione said firmly, her aura restlessly causing her curls to stand on end. "Draco happens to be a wonderful person who actually sees me as I am, not as some ideal Gryffindor doxie from eight years ago. So kindly, hold your tongue and let me tell you the whole story."

Harry's silence gave Hermione permission to relate Draco and Millicent's situation, never once pausing to let Harry slip a word in edgewise. When she finished, she stopped for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry to drag you into this Harry, but you're the only one I could think of to call for advice. Let me know if...if you're too personally involved to take this on."

Silence. Horrible, pregnant silence filled the phone-line, and distantly Hermione registered that the water was no longer running in the shower. When Harry spoke again, it was in a firm tone that he reserved for court, life-or-death situations, or when he was desperately trying to show professionalism. "I will consider taking on Mister Malfoy and Miss Bulstrode's case -"

"Oh thank you so much Harry!" Hermione interrupted, startled when Harry continued.

"-on the sole condition that he meet with me today to discuss particulars, payment, and other details about the case."

Hermione's heart faltered. "So...I have to bring Draco to your office?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "And he needs to know that he's meeting with _me_."

Hermione groaned. "Harry," she started to plead, but Harry cut her off.

"That's the only way this will work. Good day, Hermione."

Hurt by her friend's cold attitude, Hermione replied with a sharp "Good day, Mister Potter," before slamming the phone down.

"Well, it sounds like that didn't go too well darling." Hermione whirled around to see Draco standing in the doorway, hair still dripping from the shower. "What did your 'connection' think of our case?"

Hermione plastered a smile on her face. "Oh no, he says that your case would be fine!"

The tension in Malfoy's shoulders relaxed, and his lips curved up into an easy smile. After a moment, however, his brow furrowed. "Then why the angry hang-up?" he asked, puzzled.

Rubbing her temples and shutting her eyes, Hermione answered. "Because he wants to meet with you."

Draco still looked confused. "Um...brilliant. Would this afternoon work for your contact?" Suddenly Draco clued in. "Wait...what's your contact's name."

Grimacing, Hermione barely whispered Harry's name.

"Sorry," Draco said, leaning towards his girlfriend, "I didn't quite catch that."

Hermione turned to look at Malfoy, her face laced with apprehension. "My contact is Harry," she said loudly. "Harry Potter."

Draco hissed, sucking air in through his teeth. "Potter?" he spat. "How could Potter possibly help Millie?"

"_Harry_ happens to be a fully-qualified and very successful lawyer," Hermione said, putting emphasis on her friend's first name. "He's willing to consider helping you and Millicent out as long as you go meet with him today."

Malfoy paced back and forth. "Grovelling to Potter," he hissed, "what next? Asking Weasleby for a loan?"

"Malfoy!" Hermione said, shocked. "Why are you so bitter about this?"

Whipping around, Malfoy grabbed Hermione's shoulders. "As much as I love Millie, and as much as I love you, you really think that I can put aside that many years of animosity?" Draco desperately flung his hands into the air. "It's impossible! Him and Weasleby made my life a nightmare for seven bloody years!"

"I made your life a nightmare too," Hermione said quietly, stepping back from Malfoy. "I guess you're not over what I did to you either then."

Malfoy grimaced. "You barely did anything though!" he insisted, trailing his fingers down her cheek.

"I clocked you in third year, helped Harry and Ron practice the spells that they used on you, followed you around the castle in sixth year, and would have left you in the Fiendfyre in seventh year." Hermione ticked her offenses off on her fingers as she named them. "I'm just as bad as both Ron and Harry, and you've managed to accept me. Can you please give Harry a chance?"

Draco's eyes looked unfocussed as he looked at something far beyond Hermione. Uncertain whether he was really listening to her, Hermione placed a kiss on Draco's lips and said "Draco? Did you hear me?"

Shaking his head slightly, Draco looked down at Hermione as if seeing her for the first time. Running his fingers over her eyelids, lips, nose, and cheeks, Draco sighed. "We made your life a living hell, and I'm sorry. But I've changed," Hermione whispered. "You've changed too. Can't you give Harry a chance to show you how he's changed for the better?"

Draco brushed his lips lightly over Hermione's. "For you, darling, I'd try anything."

Smiling beautifully, Hermione hugged Draco tightly. "Thank you," she said into his shirt.

Awkwardly clearing his throat Draco said, "If you're going to cry, please don't cry on this shirt – I only own two nice ones, and you're wearing the second."

Hermione blushed profusely. "Before we go meet Harry, could we stop by my flat for a second?" she asked. "I'd just like to _not _wear an evening gown all day."

Draco laughed. "As long as we're not ambushed by gingers that sounds brilliant. Now give me back my shirt."

Hermione grabbed Draco's hand, brushing her green dress out of the way with her other hand. "I've re-keyed the wards to let you in," Hermione explained. "but my flat still doesn't trust you. You'll have to side-along apparate this one time, but after this you can apparate as often as you'd like."

"I hope I'll be coming over to your place often," Draco said, smiling.

Hermione beamed. "How about for dinner tonight? It wouldn't be anything special, but I could make us dinner..."

Draco kissed her cheek. "Sounds lovely."

And with that, they apparated straight into Hermione's living room. "I'll be just a second," Hermione promised. "I'll be so relieved to get out of this dress."

"Looks like you were out of it all night."

Hermione whipped around, hands at the ready, and narrowed her eyes. "Ronald," she hissed. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"What?" Ron asked, raising his arms, his wand obvious in his right hand. "Am I not allowed to visit my fiancée's flat?"

Ron looked awful. Large purple bags sat under his bleary blue eyes, and his hair looked like he'd been through a wind-tunnel. His robes were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them, and he was sporting a particularly terrifying scowl. "How'd you get past my wards?" Hermione growled, feeling for her aura.

"I am an auror, 'Mione, as much as you seem to forget that," Ron snapped, pointing to where his badge would be concealed under his cloak. "I _can _break through wards, even wards as strong as yours."

"Back off Weasleby," Draco growled behind Hermione, drawing his wand out from his cane.

Ron seemed to only notice Draco when he spoke. "So it's true," Ron spat, gesturing towards Malfoy. "You've been sleeping with the Ferret behind my back."

"It's not like that Ronald," Hermione said sharply. "I called it off with you before I allowed myself anywhere near Draco."

Ron laughed dryly. "Oh really?" he asked. "You seemed to get over me pretty quickly." Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Audrey was in Soho last night visiting her friend," Ron continued, "and she told Percy that she could've sworn that she saw Hermione Granger out cuddling with some tall, blonde stranger. I only know one tall, blonde, girlfriend-stealing git, so I figured it must be you, Malfoy."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Weasley," Draco said slowly, his voice level. "So lower your wand, get the message, and _get out_."

"Get what message?" Ron asked, feigning innocence. "The one that my fiancée delivered to my entire bloody family the other day? The message that boils down to "thanks for the body heat, now get out"? Not bloody likely."

Ron was fuming. Hermione had never seen him this mad, and she didn't even think he was drunk at the moment. "Ron," Hermione said softly, "calm down. We can work this out."

"I will NOT calm down," Ron roared, "at least not while that git is still here!"

Breathing deeply and turning to face Draco, Hermione put on her mask of feigned strength. "It's ok Draco," she said quietly. "I can manage this. Go meet Harry."

"Oh, so now Harry's in on this too? Bloody brilliant."

"Shut up, Weaselby!" Malfoy snapped.

"Draco," Hermione said, putting her hand on his cheek. "Go. I'll see you tonight, alright?"

Reluctantly looking between Hermione and Ron, his expression flickering between doubt and anger, Draco nodded. "I'll see you tonight darling." With a final scowl at Ron and a kiss on Hermione's cheek, Draco disapparated.

"How come you let him do that to you?" Ron asked quietly, lowering his wand. All of his previous anger seemed to have morphed very suddenly into sadness.

Noticing Ron's wide eyes, Hermione stiffened. "Do what?" she asked brusquely.

"Get so close to you," Ron said, still mildly shocked. "I always figured that you just didn't like men being so close to you, which is why you always flinched away from me. Do I really disgust you that much?" Ron looked like he was about to shatter.

"No, of course not Ron!" Hermione insisted, stepping closer to her ex-fiancée. "I just...I don't know. There's something missing between us that I found with Draco."

"What experiences do you have with Draco, hmm?" Ron asked cuttingly. "What memories have you made together?"

Hermione was silent.

"I have loads of memories of us," Ron said, watching Hermione's reactions very closely. "I remember you saving my life and me saving yours. I remember us coming together in a time where the world was terrifying, and we were living every day like it was our last. I remember _us _working together to make ourselves a future, a future where we could be safe and happy." Hermione's eyes were filled with tears. "What happened to all that?" Ron asked quietly. "What happened to us?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted sadly. "I really don't know Ronald. But something did change, and now we're both just too different."

The couple stood in silence for several moments, both thinking deeply. "I can't just walk away you know," Ron said softly. "You've shaped my life, and things can't just go back to how they were."

"That's not true!" Hermione insisted, worrying her hands in front of her. "You have your job, and your friends -"

Ron let out a single bark-like laugh. "My job," he said dryly. "Let me tell you about my job. You think I like being an auror?" Hermione nodded. Ron grimaced. "I really don't 'Mione. I really don't. I took the blasted job because Kingsley offered it to me for free after the war – no tests, no fees, no school. He said that I'd "earned by badge". I took the job so that I knew I could support you and our family." At this point tears started to slide down Hermione's face.

"I really hate it you know," Ron said bitterly. "All this killing and hexing and raiding. I only killed one man through the whole war – one lousy death eater – and he still haunts my nightmares. Now I've killed dozens of dark wizards, and you know what?" Ron looked angrily up at Hermione. "It doesn't get any bloody easier, 'Mione. I'd come home after work and think, "well, it'd a damned good thing that you've got 'Mione to watch your back, make sure that you'll be ok". But I guess I don't, do I?"

Hermione was crying in earnest now, her body wracked with silent sobs that caused her slender frame to tremble. "Ron, please," she sobbed, "don't do this to me. Draco makes me happy!"

"Oh, he makes you happy?" Ron jeered. "What's he done that I haven't? You've known him for just over forty-eight bloody hours Hermione, and you think you know him?"

A part inside of Hermione screamed, _Yes! You do know him! You're both broken in the same way, and you can fix each other! He loves you, he thinks you're beautiful!_

Hermione's logic, however, whispered cutting words into her ear. _Do you really know this boy? _it hissed. _He called you a mudblood. His aunt carved the word into your very skin, remember? He hunted you. He hated you. And now he professes his love? Ha, see how long that lasts. _

_ This boy before you, this lost, loving boy has stood beside you for how long? How many scrapes did he pull you out of, hmm? How can you just let him go? You'd have to be one heartless bitch, Hermione Granger._

Hermione felt her heart breaking. It's not like it is in the cartoons, where your heart cracks in two; when your heart breaks, it just slows down to a stop. Without that constant pounding in your chest, your muscles start to ache and then your whole chest starts to ache. Pretty soon the ache moves deep into your bones and travels down your body, spreading from your fingertips to your toes. _That_ is heartbreak, the feel of your entire body aching for something that's no longer there.

That is how Hermione felt long after Ron had left her to stew in her own silence, and that is how Hermione thought she would feel for the rest of her life.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven:

Hermione was alone for several hours after Ron left her flat. She barely even noticed him leaving; she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. The seconds became minutes, the minutes became hours, and the hours multiplied until the poor girl had been sitting in silence for six hours. Suddenly, her vigil was broken by the ringing of a telephone.

She got up slowly and walked to her phone in the other room. "Hello?" she said listlessly.

"'Mione! It's Harry!" an excited voice nearly shouted at her.

"Hi Harry," she said flatly.

"…aren't you dying to know how the meeting with your boyfriend went?"

Hermione flinched. Harry didn't even wait for her to answer.

"Draco is _brilliant! _He's hilarious, quite charming, and not at all the lousy git we used to pick on in our earlier years. He's a fine catch there 'Mione!"

Hermione was silent, tears gathering in her eyes. "If you say so," she said softly.

"Oh, I know so!" Harry said exuberantly. "We're going to get Millicent out easily – we can probably get the case dismissed before it even goes to trial."

"That's great."

"I'll be representing them, of course – this case is too important to me to just let some other lawyer screw it all up."

"Awesome Harry."

Sensing his friend's hesitance, Harry paused. "Oh, sorry, did I interrupt something?" Harry asked. "Were you in the middle of something important? And here I am just blathering on…"

"Did Draco go home?" Hermione asked, brushing tears away from just beneath her eyes.

"Uh, yeah. About two hours ago. I just got roped into playing monopoly with Lily so I couldn't call until now."

"Thanks Harry. I've got to go, sorry."

"Ok, talk to you later 'Mione!"

When she hung up, Hermione burst into tears. "I can't do this!" she shrieked to her echoing flat. "I can't bloody do this anymore!"

Throwing a worn sweater over her evening dress that she still hadn't changed out of, Hermione apparated straight outside of Draco's flat. She knocked.

When Draco opened the door, the grin he had been wearing faded into a frown. Hermione looked awful, crying and rumpled and dishevelled. Draco pulled her into a hug. "Darling, what's wrong?"

Hermione just fisted Draco's shirt, tears drenching his shoulder. She inhaled deeply, trying to memorize Malfoy's wonderful smell before she stepped away. "We can't keep doing this," she said hoarsely, wiping tears away from her eyes.

Draco looked very confused, his hands still frozen out in front of him where Hermione had been a few moments earlier. "Doing what?" he asked softly.

"This!" Hermione said, gesturing around her. "This….this whole fiasco with me seeing you!"

Malfoy grimaced. "Darling, please don't do this."

"Do what?" Hermione snapped, trying so hard to mask her sadness with anger.

"I don't think I can survive another conversation like this…" Draco trailed off, leaning heavily on the door frame.

"Another one?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Draco nodded. "In my experience, all relationships always end with the 'it's not me, it's you' speech." Hermione bit her bottom lip, worrying the skin. "I just….I just prayed that I wouldn't have this conversation with you, Hermione. You're too special to me."

Hermione's tears couldn't be stopped at this point, so she decided that tying to rub her eyes dry was a pointless endeavour. "But Draco," she started, "I'm engaged! This is basically like carrying on an affair."

"No," Draco said coolly. "You broke it off with Ron before we did anything serious."

"Well apparently I didn't break it off with Ron," Hermione said.

Draco's brow furrowed. "What did he say to you, darling?"

"Nothing that I didn't need to hear," she said quietly, clasping her hands together. Hermione took a deep breath. "Draco, this would never work. You and me….we're not compatible."

Were Draco's eyes watering, or was that just the light? "Darling…we're perfect for each other."

"No, we're not! Don't make this harder for me!" Hermione cried, her soul aching. He was so close. She could just give up and go embrace him. _No. Finish this, for both of you._

"You're making this hard on yourself, Hermione!" Draco said firmly. "We could be happy together, but instead you're choosing to let both of us suffer for the happiness of your ex-fiancée."

Draco's comment hit home, and Hermione felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach. All of the air in her body left her in a whoosh, and she suddenly felt very empty. "I have to do this Draco," she whispered. "Please understand."

"No, I won't understand!" Draco said loudly, grabbing Hermione's shoulders. "Why do you always have to make yourself the martyr, darling?" He ran a finger down Hermione's cheek. "We could be so happy together."

Her entire body screaming against her, Hermione took a step back. "I owe Ron his happiness, Draco," she said calmly, her tears still flowing freely. "I don't deserve to take that from him."

Draco laughed dryly. "Yet you deserve to steal my happiness from me?"

"No!" Hermione protested. "No, I -"

Draco interrupted her defence. "Hermione, I have never been as happy in my entire life as I have been over the past four days. You have changed my attitude, my worldview, and ultimately you've changed my life." Hermione was just about to break. "Please, darling," Draco begged, clasping his hands in front of his chest. "Please don't do this."

Hermione bit her cheeks to hold her traitorous words inside of her. Although her eyes still leaked tears, a dark cloud passed behind them. Draco slumped forward and the fire in his eyes died. "You've made up your mind," he said blankly. "Nothing I say can change your decision."

Hermione nodded, the ache in her chest getting stronger. She could barely manage to choke out the words; "Draco….I'm not the end. Please go find happiness with someone else -"

"Oh no, you're the end!" Draco said, sounding defeated but upset. "You are the one, Hermione Granger. You are my soul mate. And you're walking away from me. If you have the ability to do that….well, let's just say that I'm done trying to find happiness. I'll just wallow in sadness and anger like the bloody Death Eater I am."

Hermione reached her arm out to rest her hand on Draco's shoulder, but she stopped herself. _If you touch him now, you'll never let go_, a voice inside of her warned. Hermione pulled her arm back. "Don't say that, Draco," Hermione pleaded. "Please…don't burden me with your unhappiness!"

"But it's your burden, Hermione!" he said, glaring down at her. "It's you who's decided to take this away from both of us, and it's you that has to live with the consequences."

There was silence. Hermione desperately reigned in her emotions and re-adjusted her mask. "I've known the new, wonderful you for less than a week, Draco," she said calmly. "I think we rushed this relationship. We could still meet for coffee, or something, and get to know each other better."

Draco's smile was sad and burdened. "No, Hermione, we can't still be friends," he said softly, running his hand through his hair. "Do you know how hard it's going to be, knowing that you're here in London? Knowing that if I wanted, I could come see you? Knowing that you're stuck in some death-trap of a marriage, unable to work doing what you love, raising _his _children?" Draco took a deep breath. "Hermione, if you end this, we don't see each other ever again."

Another part of Hermione cracked. _Stop! _her heart cried. _This will kill you! This will kill __**him**__! _

But again, Logic spoke its cutting words and said, _You're almost there Hermione. A few more sentences, and he'll be free of you and you'll be where you belong – with Ron._

Hermione nodded to herself. "Draco," she said quietly, "my place is beside Ron. It used to be beside Ron and Harry, and by staying in my place I managed to keep our friendship strong and help fulfill Harry's destiny. Now it's my turn to help fulfill Ron's."

"And what, pray tell, is Ron's great 'destiny'?" Draco asked harshly. "As far as I've heard, no second Voldemort arrived to test young Weasley's strength."

Hermione winced. "He deserves to be happy now," she whispered. "He sacrificed so much for Harry's cause, and all he ever wanted was to settle down with someone he loved and raise a family. I've denied him that happiness for far too long."

"And you'll deny your own happiness for even longer," Draco said, crossing his arms. "For the cleverest witch of your age, you really can be quite thick."

Hermione glared at the Slytherin. "Kindly, do not turn our last words into words of anger."

Draco shook his head. "No matter what I say, no words will ever be enough."

"Draco," Hermione said desperately, "can't you give up? Why won't you just let me end this?!"

Malfoy shook his head. "That's the thing about us Death Eaters," he said softly. "We never know when to give up."

"Draco, stop!" Hermione shrieked, her aura becoming visible around her. "You…you are far too good for me. You are so good, Draco, I can't even express it. Please, please let us part as friends." She put the final nail in her coffin when she stepped away from Malfoy's door.

Draco shook his head. "Have you ever read the muggle author, Charles Dickens?"

Hermione nodded, still cautious. "Why do you ask?"

"There's a line from _A Christmas Carol _that really applies here," Draco said sadly. "'I hope that you are happy with the life you have chosen'."

And with that, Draco shut the door to his flat, leaving Hermione cold, crying, and lonely in the hallway.

Hermione sprinted down the hallway, only to trip over her high heels. "Damn you!" she shouted, pulling off her shoes and leaving them in the hallway. _I have to get home before I totally lose it_, she thought, tears streaming down her face.

Inside Draco Malfoy's flat, the young man had slumped into his chair, his head in his hands. "Damn you," he said, glaring at the floor. It was unclear whether he was damning himself, Hermione, or geniunely damning his carpet. He sighed, and summoned a tumbler of scotch. "I have to get out of here before I totally lose it," he murmured, lifting the glass to his lips. Standing up, Draco wandered over to his phone book and flipped through the pages. He needed to find someone to call with inquiries about purchasing a plane ticket.

A/N: So this was a bit of a shorter chapter, but very important none-the-less. I may be late publishing for the next couple days, since I'm on vacation with my family. I really don't want to rush the ending of this story, so please bear with me! Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews and all the alerts and favourites...it's super exciting! Hugs to everyone! ~sneakyslytherin


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve:

When Hermione went to sleep on Sunday night, she was desperately praying that she'd wake up in the morning to discover that this whole debacle had been a bad dream. Most likely because of her restless mind and roused emotions, Hermione's dreams were haunted with half-glimpses of a tall, blonde figure inside of a maze, and a desperate feeling that she had to find this man before she woke up. Just as she was about to round another corner, Hermione's dream was interrupted by the loud blaring of her alarm clock.

It took a few moments for Hermione to fully comprehend that she was awake, she loved Draco, had pushed him away, and was now condemned to spend the rest of her life with Ron. She started crying before she even got out of bed.

Hermione considered calling in sick for work, but promptly shook herself. "Granger," she said sternly, "you are not going to spend the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself. You've made your choice, and as much as you might hate yourself for it you absolutely have to live with it." Standing up and walking over the mirror, she looked deep into her own eyes as she continued. "Life will go on, and it's your job to make the best of it."

For some reason her words sounded hollow. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes desperately. "What has Draco done to you?" she asked her reflection. "You were perfectly normal five days ago….perfectly boring, perfectly trapped, and perfectly surrounded by routine. Merlin."

Zombie-like, Hermione dressed for work and left for her coffee-shop. Sitting with her croissant and black coffee outside, it was a while before Hermione realized that she wasn't even watching the people passing by. "God damn it!" she said loudly, standing up. The handful of other patrons in the shop grew silent and looked at the strange shouting girl. "Snap out of it!" she whispered harshly to herself as she exited the shop ten minutes early. "You can't live like this."

Miss Berkeley seemed genuinely surprised to see Hermione come in early. "Good morning Hermione!" she said brightly. "I'm glad to see that you're here early today!"

Hermione grimaced. "Not by choice, believe me," she mumbled, before opening her office door.

As an afterthought, Hermione turned around to ask Miss Berkeley who her first appointment was, only to stop when she saw Miss Berkeley's expression. Her face mixed with curiosity and sadness, Miss Berkeley asked, "Is it Mister Komodo, Doctor Jean?"

Hermione stiffened. "Sorry?" she asked sharply. "I don't understand your question."

Miss Berkeley sighed. "The way you've been acting lately – it's clear you're in love." She paused for a moment. "After your ten year engagement I didn't think that it would be Mister Ron, but I just figured it out yesterday. It's Mister Komodo that you're in love with, isn't it?"

The ache inside of Hermione's chest intensified. "That's my business Miss Berkeley," she said quietly, making it clear through her lack of an answer that the young secretary was correct.

Miss Berkeley nodded. "Of course, Doctor," she said, looking down at her computer screen. "Your first appointment is Mrs Wiltshire – she rescheduled her Thursday appointment to today because of her children coming to visit."

Hermione should have felt happy to meet with her favourite client again, but the radiating ache in her chest seemed to put a damper on her happiness. "Thank you Miss Berkeley."

When Hermione sat down in her chair and looked at her client sofa, it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to start crying again. She scowled at the offending couch. "I'm replacing you tomorrow," she snapped. "You're out of style anyways."

"Scolding the furniture dear? That's an interesting exercise."

Hermione's head snapped up and a blush coloured her cheeks as she realized that Mrs Wiltshire had witnessed her outburst at her sofa. "Erm, sorry Mrs Wiltshire," she stuttered. "You didn't need to see that. Please sit down." Hermione pasted a grin onto her face.

Mrs Wiltshire looked over her glasses, her eyes concerned but shining with mischief. "Is the couch fit for anyone to sit on, or should I fear for my life?"

Hermione's blush grew. "No, don't worry. The couch is perfectly normal."

"Then why were you chastising this poor piece of furniture?" the old lady asked after she had sat down gingerly on the corner of the couch.

"No reason," Hermione almost squeaked, attempting to control her continuing blush.

Mrs Wiltshire smiled knowingly. "Dear, you've listened to my problems for close to four years. I can take thirty seconds to listen to your problems with your couch."

"It's not really about my couch," Hermione blurted, regretting the words as soon as they passed her lips.

Mrs Wiltshire raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Is it about the chair?"

A smile played over Hermione's lips as she shook her head. "It's not a furniture-related issue."

"Ah. But it's something that's troubling you deeply" - when Hermione moved to protest, the old lady shook her head – "I'm a mother of three, my dear, I can see your emotions as clearly as if they were my own. Now, this is an issue of the heart, yes?"

Hermione flinched. "Am I really that obvious?"

Mrs Wiltshire grinned. "No, I'm just good at guessing." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to smile. Mrs Wiltshire frowned. "Don't show me any false emotions my dear, that's not going to work on me."

Sighing, Hermione let her prepared mask slip away, revealing the sadness in her eyes and the frown-lines around her lips. Mrs Wilshire took a deep breath. "Boy or girl?" she asked cautiously.

"Boy," Hermione said very quickly. "Definitely boy."

Mrs Wiltshire smiled. "Good. I'm not sure I've ever had to deal with a same sex couple's spat before."

"It's not a spat," Hermione said slowly. "Not exactly."

"Then what is it?" Mrs Wiltshire asked.

Hermione sighed. "I recently realized that I'm in love with a man that I used to attend school with, but the problem is that I'm engaged to a different man….a man who I no longer love."

"Mister Weasley?" Mrs Wiltshire said. Hermione nodded, trying to remember when she'd mentioned her fiancée to this woman. "I'm not surprised," Mrs Wiltshire sniffed. "from what you said of him I didn't think that you two were suited."

Hermione sat back in her chair, annoyed. "How does everyone see this except me?" she asked, throwing her hands up.

Mrs Wiltshire's eyes gave a Dumbledore-like twinkle. "Sometimes it's most difficult to see that which is right in front of us." Giving Hermione a moment to think over her words, Mrs Wiltshire continued. "So, you were telling me about how this problem wasn't a spat."

"Yes," Hermione said hesitantly, trying to think of how to explain the situation to Mrs Wiltshire. "Well, the other day I realized that I have an obligation to Ron – Mister Weasley – and that it would destroy him if I were to leave his life. So….so I….broke it of with Dr- with the man that I actually love."

The office was quiet as Mrs Wiltshire thought about Hermione's statement. "…does this man love you back?" Mrs Wiltshire asked.

"I…I think so," Hermione said quietly. "At least that's what he said. But I'm not sure if he really feels that way."

A thin, white eyebrow was raised. "Why do you doubt his affections?"

"I don't, really…" Hermione trailed off. "It's more about my duty to Ron."

"Duty?" Mrs Wiltshire scoffed. "What duty, dear?"

"I'm engaged to him!" Hermione huffed. "If you don't call that duty, then I don't know what is."

"That's not duty dear," the old lady said softly. "An engagement should never be seen as a 'duty'. It should be a delight."

Hermione sagged. "I guess so, but still – I can't just back out on him after nine years."

"Have you been living with Mister Weasley?"

"No…well, we tried that for a while, but he was _impossible._"

"…and you decided to remain engaged after that?" Mrs Wiltshire looked sceptical.

"Well….yeah," Hermione said sheepishly. "Ron was adamant that the environment would be significantly more positive with children."

Mrs Wiltshire tapped one of her long, bony fingers on her lips. "So, you're saying that you can't even stand to live with this boy, yet you're considering having children with him?"

"….yes?"

Mrs Wiltshire shook her head. "And I thought my generation was silly."

"Ron and I have a lot of history together!" Hermione insisted.

"And when you were making all this 'history', were you friends or a couple?"

"Friends. It was only after we made this 'history' that we realized how much we really meant to each other." Hermione was puzzled. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Mrs Wiltshire sighed. "Did it ever occur to you, Doctor Jean, that he was - is - the perfect friend? He would've stood by you, yes, and looked out for you….but aren't those things that a _brother _would do? Isn't that compatible with _brotherly love_?"

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Hermione felt like she had been punched in the stomach. "Yes, but -"

"This other man – did you hurt him when you pushed him away?" Mrs Wiltshire's eyes looked at Hermione's, the lenses of her glasses reflecting the light from the window.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, looking at the ground. "I think that I really hurt him. But he'll find someone else."

"…is this boy as broken as you are?"

Hermione's head jerked up. "Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.

"You are broken dear," Mrs Wiltshire said firmly. "You hide your shattered soul by helping poor old folks like me deal with their sadness. You're a lovely girl, Doctor Jean, but there's something missing in your life." Hermione's eyes were watering, her self-control finally breaking. "Now dear," Mrs Wiltshire said quietly, "is your lover broken too?"

"Yes," Hermione said softly. "Yes, I think he is." And with those words, Hermione's allowed herself to cry.

Mrs Wiltshire placed her wrinkled hand on top of Hermione's young, un-calloused one. "We are very alike, my dear," she said, patting Hermione's hand.

"How?' Hermione sniffed. "You and your Eustace were perfect for each other. For God's sake, you were married for fifty years!"

Mrs Wiltshire looked at Hermione disapprovingly. "It wasn't a smooth road to marriage though, dear."

Hermione looked surprised. She'd never known that Mrs Wiltshire and Eustace's marriage had been anything but ideal. "What….why was it difficult?"

"I was engaged to another man," Mrs Wiltshire said, tracing the veins in her hand lightly with the fingertips of her other hand. "I was much younger then, of course, and – according to my mother – not much to look at. I was promised to a Lord Daley, who was very wealthy, of equal rank, and willing to marry me."

Hermione shook her head. "Wait…you were a Lady?"

Mrs Wiltshire smiled. "Yes, I was, but that's not the point." Hermione smiled faintly. "When I first met Lord Daley, he was very kind to me, and treated me like a sister. Since no man had ever bothered to even look at me before I thought that I was head-over-heels in love with him. However, a few months before my wedding I was introduced to a tailor, Eustace Wiltshire. He was very kind to me, and we formed a close friendship. One day after taking my measurements, however, Eustace kissed me. That kiss ignited a fire within me that I didn't even know existed.

"I asked Daley to kiss me the next day….the fire that I had with Eustace wasn't there." Pausing at Hermione's distant expression, Mrs Wiltshire smiled. "Is this sounding familiar, dear?"

Hermione shook herself. "Please continue, Mrs Wiltshire."

Smiling, the old lady re-launched her tale. "Eustace and I had a whirlwind romance filled with secret meetings, hidden flowers, and hurried kisses. I told Eustace that we couldn't be together – even though I loved him, and he loved me, I was promised to Daley. Eustace, though, wouldn't accept this, and continued to secretly court me. He needn't have bothered, though – he had my heart from the very first day."

Hermione interrupted. "How did you manage to avoid marrying Daley?"

"My mother was furious when she found Eustace and me in the garden," Mrs Wiltshire said, her eyes misty with the power of memory. "But Eustace was unfazed. He defended our love, and vocally declared his desire to marry me. I knew at that moment that whatever it took, Eustace and I would be together."

"How did you know?" Hermione asked. "Asides from the whole fiery kissing thing, how did you know that it was Eustace that you loved, not Daley?"

"He made me feel complete," Mrs Wiltshire said softly. "When I was with Eustace I could lower my walls completely, and he would still love me for who I was. That is how you know, dear; when you can bare your soul and all your imperfections, and the man stays."

Hermione's tears threatened to start up again. "So, what did you do?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"Eustace and I ran away," the old woman said. "My parents disinherited me, and Daley married my younger sister."

"Oh gosh," Hermione said, covering her mouth. "That must have been awful."

Mrs Wiltshire smiled. "That's what everyone says….I guess it should have been. But it really wasn't." Looking past Hermione, Mrs Wiltshire sighed happily. "As long as Eustace and I were together, it didn't matter if we were looking for work, or a bit hungry, or lost. As long as we had each other, we knew that everything would be alright."

Silence hovered in the air between the two women. "I don't know if I could survive that," Hermione said quietly. "Being cut off from all of my friends…rejected simply because of the man I love and the choice I made."

Mrs Wiltshire shook her head. "If your friends truly care about you and they see that you're unhappy with Mister Weasley, I'm sure that they'll welcome you back with open arms. You really are a delightful young woman, Doctor Jean."

"But I've screwed everything up!" Hermione said loudly. "Draco would never let me near him now...I was quite harsh."

"If he loves you as much as you love him, dear, he'll welcome you back with open arms." Mrs Wiltshire grinned devilishly. "You might have to grovel a bit, though."

Hermione smiled and stood up, the ache that was gnawing at her heart fading slightly. "Thank you Mrs Wiltshire. You've been a great help."

Mrs Wiltshire smiled. "Should I reschedule the rest of my appointment, dear?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd really appreciate that." Hermione reached for her trench coat before turning around and giving Mrs Wiltshire a determined smile. "What I have to do won't be easy, but I know it's the right thing to do…I might need some time to do it."

The old lady moved her hands in a "shoo" gesture at Hermione. "Then go, Doctor Jean – take all the time you need."

"Oh, enjoy your visits with your children!" Hermione called over her shoulder.

"Enjoy your love! You only have one soul mate, Doctor Jean - treat him right!" Mrs Wiltshire smiled proudly, picked up her umbrella, and left the office moments after Hermione.

A concerned Miss Berkeley stopped her. "Mrs Wiltshire, is Doctor Jean alright?" she asked, obviously worried.

"She's wonderful," Mrs Wiltshire said, patting Miss Berkeley's hand. "She's about to make the right choice. I'd recommend cancelling the rest of her appointments today."

Miss Berkeley's worry melted away. "Thank you Mrs Wiltshire," she said. "Doctor Jean really needed a reality check."

Mrs Wiltshire smiled, winked, and was about to leave the office when she said as an afterthought, "Oh, Miss Berkeley, please tell Doctor Jean that I'd like to meet this "Draco" someday. I'm sure that he's absolutely wonderful."

A/N: _Thank you so much for your patience, sorry for the late post! Two more chapters...dun dun duuuhh! :) Please R&R, I love reading your opinions! ~sneakyslytherin_


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: OK, the penultimate installement of _Therapy_! Reviews are super appreciated - every single one is read and cherished. :) I hope that you enjoy this chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter Thirteen:

Her eyes alight with fiery determination, Hermione apparated to the doorstep of Ron's flat. She took a deep breath, thinking _Just do it. Just do it. _before ringing the doorbell.

When Hermione saw Ron, she had to stifle a gasp – he looked positively dreadful. Large purple bags sat under his bleary, sleep-deprived eyes, and his hair looked like there could be rats living in it and no one would realize it. "'Mione," he said, smiling.

"Ron," Hermione said softly. "Can I come inside?"

Ron's smile fell. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" he said quietly, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

Hermione smiled sadly, and followed Ron's arm motion into his living room. Ron collapsed into a large, comfy chair, but Hermione remained standing. "Ron, we need to end this."

"Why?" Ron asked, the hurt and anger audible in his voice. "I thought I made this clear yesterday….I love you 'Mione!"

She sighed. "And I love you too," she said, putting her hand on his. "But not this way. You're like my brother Ron, and you'll always be my best friend."

Ron snorted. "I told you 'Mione, we can't go back to being friends. We're so much more than that."

"I think we can go back," she insisted. "I don't think we ever really left the realm of friendship, asides from a few kisses. You are….you are my best friend Ron, and you always will be."

In all of their years together, through the battles and the raids and the loss, Hermione had only seen Ron cry once, when his brother Fred had died. She felt a great wrench in her stomach as she noticed that Ron's eyes were filling with tears. "What will I do without you?" Ron whispered. "You're such a part of me, 'Mione. My goal for my entire life has been to be with you….if you leave me now I don't think I'll survive."

Hermione crouched down, trying to keep her emotions in check. She looked Ron in the eyes, and brushed away a tear that was threatening to fall from his eye. "Ron," she said in a matter-of-fact-tone, "you are the bravest Gryffindor that I know."

Ron made a strangled sound in his throat. "Harry?" he managed to choke out, unable to say anything more without completely losing it.

"Harry is brave, yes," Hermione agreed, "but in a way _you _are braver. You're strong enough to be the one in the background, the unsung hero, the guy-who's-always-there." Ron looked down at the ground, but Hermione pushed his chin back up with her fingertips. "You are the most Gryffindor-ish Gryffindor that will ever live," she continued, smiling, her heart lifting when Ron tried to smile at her. "And you will always bounce back, each time stronger than before."

Ron tried to scoff, but it was obvious that he was beyond his limits of self-control. Tears began to slip from his eyes. "Hermione," he said, barely audible. "you are the only girl for me."

"No," she whispered, reaching into her trench coat pocket. "I'm not."

Taking Ron's fisted hand in hers, Hermione pried open his rigid fingers and flattened his palm. An air of finality about her actions, she dropped her engagement ring into Ron's hand and curled his fingers around it. Unable to form words, Ron started to sob.

Hermione realized that she wasn't crying – she didn't even feel particularly sad, really. A bit reflective, yes. Worried for Ron, in a way. But just….sad? No. It was at that moment that she became completely certain that she had done the right thing.

Placing a chaste kiss on Ron's cheek, Hermione turned to go. "Wait," Ron called out in a watery voice. Hermione turned back slowly, tilting her head. "'Mione….thanks."

"Thanks?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "Thanks for what?"

Ron sighed. "For forgiving my stupidity. I was a total git to you, and you still treated me so nicely." Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Ron continued. "I still love you, and I won't get over you for a while - possbily forever - but it's obvious that your love for me is over. So…so I just hope that you find the guy you deserve. Whether that's Draco, one of your muggle friends, or bloody Salazar Slytherin I just….I just hope that you're happy."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you Ron," she said quietly. "That means a lot to me."

Ron nodded once before standing up, walking into his bedroom, and closing the door.

_It's over_, Hermione thought, relief flooding through her. _It's finally bloody over! _

Resisting the urge to do a little happy dance in the middle of her ex-fiancée's flat, Hermione walked out of the room quickly. After taking a few moments to calm down – it would be perfectly horrid if she were to splinch herself now – Hermione apparated to Draco's flat. "Draco!" she called out, knocking on the door. "Draco please, open up!"

There was no response from inside.

Worried, Hermione knocked again. "Draco?"

Still, silence.

Tentatively turning the door handle, Hermione found that it was unlocked. She nearly cried when she opened the door; the flat had been cleaned out of personal items, the furniture covered with white sheets. It didn't look like anyone had ever lived there, let alone had been living there just yesterday. "Draco!" Hermione cried, running into the other rooms. "Draco, please don't be gone! You can't be gone!" Collapsing onto the floor in the main room, Hermione put her head in her hands. "Oh Merlin," she said, out of breath, "I've messed it all up."

The ache in her chest came back with a vengeance, spreading through her torso and limbs. Tears started to form in her eyes, and Hermione was too tired to try and blink them back. Her instincts, however, were still functioning perfectly, so when Hermione heard Draco's door open she was on her feet with her wand drawn in moments. "Pansy?" she said disbelievingly, blinking at the black-haired, tattooed figure.

"Granger," Pansy sneered, her mood-rose piercing going from green to black. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Where's Draco?" Hermione said, ignoring the Slytherin's hostility.

"Gone," Pansy said, her face curving into a malicious smile. "He left earlier this morning."

"Left for where?" Hermione asked, panicking, her heart sinking in her chest.

"Why should I tell you?" Pansy asked, crossing her arms. "You hurt him. You're the reason why he's leaving."

Flinching at the harsh yet accurate words, Hermione nodded. "Yes, yes I am," she said slowly. "I came here this morning to make things right. Now please, Pansy, tell me where he's going."

Pansy's eyes lost some of their hostility. "How do I know that you won't just hurt him again?" Pansy asked cuttingly. "Even though I'm not his girlfriend anymore, I still don't want him hurt."

Closing her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath. "Because I love him" she blurted, unblushing. Pansy's eyebrows raised, her mood-rose switching to a deep purple. "I love Draco with every fibre of my being, and I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

Pansy's lips quirked into a half-smile. "After just a few days, you've figured out that you love Draco with all of your being," she said snidely. "Yeah, that's convincing."

"It's true!" Hermione snapped. "And if you won't believe me….I don't know what I'll do, 'cause I'll have lost him." Pansy's mouth had dropped open slightly at Hermione's outburst and the Gryffindor's defeated posture. "Please Pansy," Hermione said, her desperation obvious. "Please help me."

Pansy's face softened, and her mood-rose piercing faded from a violent shade of orange down to blue. Silence filled the air between the two witches, Hermione's eyes determined and anguished, Pansy's thoughtful. Finally the Slytherin witch sighed. "If you hurt him again, so help me Merlin I will use your lion blood for potions," she warned, jabbing Hermione in the chest.

Hermione nodded and crossed her heart, waiting eagerly for Pansy's next words. "He left for Gatwick airport," she said. "He's on the 12:30 flight to Paris – he said that he's always wanted to go to France, so my sister bought the tickets for him through a wizard travel agent."

Relief filled Hermione's entire body as she leapt forward and hugged Pansy. _I'm not too late! _"Thank you!" she said, oblivious to the other girls' stiff posture and shocked expression. "Thank you so much Pansy!"

Hermione took a step back, a silly grin still plastered on her face. Pansy's expression shifted from shock to amusement. Her mood-rose turned red. "Hopefully Draco likes your hugs more than I do," she said.

"Was that an attempt at a joke, Parkinson?" Hermione asked, her eyes sparkling.

Pansy's face returned to its standard sneer, but her mood-rose betrayed her by remaining red. "Of course not Granger," she said snidely. "Now get a move on – you have to get to his gate before 12:15, otherwise he'll have boarded."

Hermione checked her watch….she had 30 minutes to get through all of Gatwick's security and find Draco's gate. Gulping, Hermione nodded. "Thanks again Pansy," she said, smiling.

For a fleeting second, Pansy's hard expression melted away. "Treat him well Hermione," she said, and that was the last thing that Hermione heard before she disapparated.

Arriving at Gatwick airport, Hermione was almost crushed by throngs of people. _Why the bloody hell is this place so busy? _she thought miserably, trying to spot a small check-in line. It was at that moment that an announcement came on over the intercom, where a pleasant female voice wished everyone a happy Easter break, and apologized for the long lines. Hermione groaned. _Perfect. Bloody brilliant._

Pushing through the crowds with mumbled "pardon me"s, Hermione managed to elbow her way to through the throng of people waiting to drop their luggage and arrive at the security line. A gruff-looking security guard stood there, and said in a low voice, "Passport and boarding card please, miss."

Grimacing, Hermione fished her passport out of her pocket and handed it over to the guard. In coordination with international policy, there were several wizard security guards, custom officers, and check-in employees who worked at every airport to check wizard passports. This gruff man was a wizard officer, as was made obvious by the small star under the Gatwick insignia on his nametag. "Miss Granger?" he asked, tapping the passport with his wand, hidden in his sleeve.

"Yes," Hermione said properly.

"Boarding pass please," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Can't you just accept my passport?" Hermione asked desperately, checking her watch. 12:07.

"Sorry ma'am, but without a boarding pass you're not allowed into the departures area," the man said as if reading from a textbook.

Hermione's aura started to crackle. "Sir, I would appreciate it if you let me through," she said coolly, her eyes steely. "I have a very important message to deliver to someone beyond this barrier."

The man didn't even flinch. "Sorry miss, but that's not possible. You have to follow protocol like everyone else."

"If you do not let me through, I will be forced to speak with your superior," Hermione threatened, her voice raising. 12:09. A few passer-by looked curiously at Hermione before avoiding what was sure to become a scuffle.

"Miss, you'll have to deliver this message when this individual returns to England," the man said loudly. "Either that, or go buy a boarding pass."

"I don't have time!" Hermione shouted. "I now have – five minutes, Merlin! – five minutes to get to this gentlemen, and if you don't let me through I promise you that I will hex you into next week!"

"Keep your voice down miss," the wizard said, grabbing Hermione's arm. "We don't want to make a scene."

"Oi, Geoff, what's going on 'ere?" Another man in a security uniform had arrived, apparently drawn to the arguing couple by the noise.

Geoff stood stiffly. "Nothing Mister McDowell, I'm just telling Miss Granger here that she can't proceed without a boarding pass."

Mister McDowell's eyes grew wide. "Gimme tha'," he said, snatching Hermione's passport out of Geoff's hand. The man's eyes grew even wider. "Blimey, you're 'ermione Granger!" he said, stuttering.

Hermione nodded, smiling smugly.

McDowell looked like he was about to faint. "Geoff!" he shouted, smacking the back of the guard's head. "This 'ere is 'ERMIONE GRANGER! The brains be'ind the Golden Trio! You owe yer miserable life to this lady!"

Geoff paled dramatically, whether it was because he was being reprimanded by his boss or he had realized who she was, Hermione couldn't tell. "Deepest apologies Miss Granger," Mister McDowell said, handing the witch back her passport. "Please continue."

Hermione walked away from the arguing guards at a fast pace until she was sure they couldn't see her anymore – then she broke into a run. Knocking over people haphazardly, Hermione rushed to the departures board. "Gate E27," she said, checking her watch. 12:13. "It'd better be close."

Running like the Grim was chasing her, Hermione sprinted through the airport. She passed Gate E22 and quickened her pace. E23. E24. E25. E26. E27!

"Last call for flight 307 to Paris, last call."

"Draco!" Hermione shouted, running along the line at the boarding desk. "Draco Malfoy!" Jumping up onto a chair, Hermione scanned the heads below her for a flash of blonde. She spotted him right at the front of the line. "DRACO!" she shouted. The blonde head jerked around, looking for who had called his name. When he saw Hermione, Draco's eyes grew wide. At first he looked happy, but then his eyes narrowed, and he turned around again.

"Bloody hell," Hermione swore, leaping of the chair and pushing through the crowd. "DRACO!" she cried. "DRACO STOP!"

Finally she reached the front of the line. The lady at the desk was handing Draco his passport back, and he was moving to step past the boarding gate and into the connector tunnel. "DRACO!" Hermione shouted. "STOP!"

Draco turned around, his eyes cold. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he said coolly. "Did you need something?"

"Don't play this game with me Draco," Hermione said fiercely, knocking his briefcase out of his hand.

"I'm not the one playing games, Granger."

The remark cut Hermione more than it should have. "Sir," the woman at the desk said quietly. "You're holding up the line. Please either step to the side or continue through."

When Draco moved to pick up his briefcase and continue into the tunnel, Hermione ground out, "Oh no you don't," and practically dragged him over to the side.

Malfoy looked a bit bewildered at Hermione's actions. "Why are you here Hermione?" he snapped. "You made your feelings for me perfectly clear yesterday. Did you just want to twist the knife in my chest one more time?"

"No!" Hermione said quickly, placing her hand over Draco's chest. "No, please, please Draco. I broke it off with Ron. I want to be with you, forever!"

"I've heard this before," Draco said, removing her hand from his chest and leaning over to pick up his briefcase.

Despairing, Hermione grabbed his shoulders and pulled him around. "I gave him back the ring, Draco. It's over."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. His grey eyes searched Hermione's brown eyes, looking for the truth that he so hoped was there. For that moment they didn't care about the people around them, where they were, or what was happening – it was just them. "Hermione," Draco said slowly, thinking over his words. "You have to mean it this time. I don't think my heart could take another rejection from you."

"Don't you see?" Hermione asked, cupping Draco's cheek with her palm. "I never stopped loving you. I just…I was incredibly stupid, and I see that. You are the only one for me Draco Malfoy, and I will love you forever."

Draco's lips curved into a smile. "Forever, darling?" Hermione nodded vehemently. "Are you sure you know what you're getting into? The golden girl in love with a slimy snake."

Hermione nodded her head, tracing his jaw with her other hand. "I know exactly what I'm getting into. If you'll have me, I am completely and totally yours for the rest of time."

Draco grinned and touched his nose to Hermione's. "No backing out now, darling," he whispered. "You're stuck with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hermione whispered, and Draco pulled her in for a passionate kiss.

The couple would have stayed like that forever had they not been jarred back into reality by the whoops and wolf-whistles coming from the people in Gate E27. Draco's smile broadened, and Hermione's cheeks flushed with colour. "Can we take this back to my place?" she whispered into her boyfriend's ear.

Draco kissed her temple lightly. "Sounds brilliant, darling."

Holding hands, the couple walked out of Gatwick and towards the nearest apparition point. They were completely oblivious to the reporters snapping pictures, the people whispering and pointing, and the disgust that flashed across several faces. All that they cared about was each other, and that was enough to get them through anything.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue: _Twelve Years Later_

"Draco!" Hermione shouted out, frantically looking through drawers. "Have you seen my emerald necklace? The one with the silver chain?"

A blonde head popped out from around the door, a smile playing over his features. "Sorry darling, no," Draco said regretfully. "Why don't you ask Trinity? That girl is more magpie than witch, if you ask me."

"Well I didn't ask," Hermione said firmly, Draco knowing that she wasn't really upset. "And she _is _your daughter. Whatever magpie characteristics she may have most likely came from your side of the family."

Draco rolled his eyes and disappeared again. Hermione smiled, toying with the silver ring on her left hand. Her husband could be a handful, but she had to admit that he was brilliant with their children. "Trinity!" Hermione called out. "Can you pop upstairs for a second?"

"Coming mummy!" a young voice answered, and Hermione soon heard hurried footfalls coming up the stairs. A few moments later, Hermione's daughter, Trinity Narcissa Malfoy, rounded the corner into her room. "Yes mum?" she asked breathlessly.

"Oh, you look beautiful darling!" Hermione said excitedly, pushing Trinity's frizzy blonde hair out of her eyes. "That dress looks gorgeous on you."

"Really?" the young girl said excitedly. "Sean said that I looked like a Gryffindor wearing all this red."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Is it bad that you look like a Gryffindor?" she asked sternly, crossing her arms.

"No mum," Trinity said earnestly, her eyes wide. "Sean just thought that I should wear yellow. You know, like for Hufflepuff."

Hermione smiled. "Well you look beautiful in anything darling, and you wear yellow-trimmed robes every day of the school year. Don't you want something different?"

Trinity nodded earnestly, her crazy hair bobbing with her head like some demented sea creature. "I like red mum."

Just then, Hermione saw a glint of silver around Trinity's neck. "Aha!" the mother exclaimed, snatching her necklace off of her daughter's neck. "That's where it got to."

Trinity's lip stuck out in a pout. "But mum -"

Draco swooped through the doorway and picked his eleven-year-old daughter up, throwing her over his shoulder where she shrieked with glee. "Listen to your mother, Trinity, otherwise I'll stop playing keeper for you."

The girl grew silent. "No more quidditch?" she asked softly. "But Daddy, I need a keeper so that I can practice to be a chaser!"

Draco flipped his daughter right-side up and placed her in-front of him. "As long as you listen to Mummy, we'll keep playing quidditch, ok Trin?"

Trinity's smile returned in full force, and the girl nodded. "Yes Dad," she said, skipping out of the room.

While she was watching her husband's loving exchange with their daughter, Hermione had put her necklace and heels on. "Well, I think we're all set to go," she said, smoothing down her blue dress self-consciously.

Draco came up behind her in the mirror and hugged her waist, placing a kiss on her temple. "You look beautiful darling."

"And you look quite handsome," Hermione replied, kissing her husband's cheek.

Draco turned Hermione around to face him. "I love you darling," he said seriously, his eyes boring into hers.

"I love you too," she said with no hesitation, and leaned over to kiss her husband on the lips.

"EEEEWWWW!" The couple broke away and smiled as they saw a head of brown hair zip behind the corner. "Trin, Mum and Dad are kissing again!"

"Gross!" Trinity called up from the basement. "C'mon you guys, we have to go!"

Hermione leaned in and touched her nose to Draco's. "Obviously eleven- and seven-year-olds don't quite appreciate love yet," she whispered.

"They will," Draco said tiredly. "and sooner than we want them to."

He placed another kiss on Hermione's cheek before turning around and going down the stairs. "Alright monkeys!" he said loudly. "Last one out to the car is fed to the acromantula!"

Hermione laughed at the shrieks that she heard, then winced when she heard someone trip. "I'm ok!" her son Sean shouted, and Hermione shook her head, smiling.

During the car-ride, Sean and Trinity were bouncing up and down. "I'm so excited to see her dress!" the little girl shrieked, her violet aura becoming obvious in the air around her. "Is it white?"

"Trinity," Hermione said sternly, meeting the girl's eyes with the driver's mirror. "Control your aura please."

"Sorry mum," the girl said, looking crestfallen.

"I heard that Neville's bringing Venomous Tentacula!" Sean said excitedly, trying to bring the mood in the car back up again. "Can I touch it Dad? Pleasepleaseplease?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "If Mr Longbottom says it's safe, then yes you can touch the freaky plant."

Everyone in the car laughed, knowing that Draco had never really understood his son's affinity towards herbology. "I'm telling you Sean," Draco said, looking at his son in the rearview mirror, "You'll end up in Ravenclaw and spend your whole life growing lots and lots of freaky plants."

"Hufflepuff is filled with smart people too!" Trinity huffed, narrowing her eyes.

Sean smiled, then sighed. "But that's in four years!" he whined. "I want to start herbology now!"

"Just read those books I bought you, hmm?" Hermione said, staring out the window. "And maybe you can spend some time with Mr Longbottom tonight, _if_ he isn't too busy receiving everyone's congratulations."

Draco smiled. "I still can't believe that Delphi is this old. Getting married. Merlin."

Hermione nodded. "It seems like just yesterday Neville and Luna sent me her baby pictures."

"Can I still play quidditch with James?" Trinity asked nervously from the backseat. "I mean, now that he's an official grown-up, will he still want to play with me?"

Hermione and Draco shared a knowing look. "Why don't you ask James tonight, honey?" Hermione suggested. "If you can find a moment to talk to him when he's not busy walking down the aisle, I'm sure he'd be fine with answering your question."

Trinity still looked troubled, but Hermione knew that everything would work out just fine – James was a loving, giving young man, just like his parents.

"We're here!" Draco called out, parking the car just outside of the wizard church.

Trinity and Sean leapt out of the car to go find their friends, while Draco and Hermione slowly walked up through the doors arm-in-arm. "You know, even after twelve years seeing all of your friends still makes me nervous," Draco whispered.

Hermione smacked his upper arm gently. "By this point they're your friends too, Draco," she said softly, placing one last kiss on his temple. "They love you too, crazy ferret."

With another genuine smile at his wife, Draco pushed open the church doors. Flowers were floating above all the pews, while small Cornish Pixies in white gowns flitted around the flower pots that remained stationary. Since this was just the church, Hermione was convinced that the reception room would be far more lavish.

"Hermione! Draco!" The couple looked around to see who had called their names, their arms still linked. They both smiled when Harry pushed his way out of the crowd. "I'm so glad you could make it," he said breathlessly, pushing his black, un-tamed hair out of his eyes.

"It was our pleasure, Harry," Draco said, nodding his head politely.

"This is all still so surreal," Harry admitted. "I mean, I know that James moved out almost a year and half ago, and that he's been living with Delphi for an entire year...but still. He's my boy."

"He's your _man_," Hermione corrected, smiling at the nervous father. "And he'll continue to be yours, don't worry."

Ginny walked up behind Harry and put her hand on his shoulder. "Running away?" she asked playfully. "The children have expressed an interest in starting a quidditch game at the reception, and making you dress up like the golden snitch."

Harry blanched, grinned crookedly, and shook his head. "Speaking of children," he said, looking around him, "where are your little devils?"

"I think Sean was off to find another vicious plant that Neville wanted to show him," Draco said, his voice flat. "I do _not _want to take him to Saint Mungo's again, so I told him he had to get Neville's permission."

"Albus has an affinity for Herbology too," Ginny mentioned. "If Sean doesn't find Al too grown-up, he could probably show your son his way around some poisonous plants."

"Thank you Ginny," Hermione said gratefully. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ginny smiled and nodded. "As lovely as it is talking to you, we should probably go visit with others," Harry said sheepishly.

Draco nodded and shooed the parents of the groom away. "Go enjoy yourselves! Say hi to Al and Lily for us!"

Soon the Boy-Who-Lived and his wife were swallowed by the crowd, and Hermione and Draco found themselves visiting with various wizard acquaintances from the Ministry. However, the room started to get significantly over-crowded. "Why don't we find a pew?" Hermione whispered into Draco's ear.

Draco nodded and steered Hermione over to right behind where James' immediate family would be sitting. Ignoring Hermione's protestations, Draco said, "You are James' godmother, darling – he'd want you to be up front."

Finally giving in, Hermione sat down next to Draco at the very edge of the pew. "I'll go find the children," Hermione offered.

"No, no," Draco said, standing up. "I'll go get them."

Whenever Draco left, Hermione always felt that twinge of sadness in her chest. She knew that he would come back, but she still got nervous. "Hermione!" she heard a high-pitched voice call out. "So wonderful that you could get here!"

Hermione found that she was sitting directly across the aisle from Luna Lovegood. Her blonde hair was piled atop her head in an insane, complex updo, and her dress shimmered in the light. "Luna!" she said excitedly. "So wonderful to see you. You look gorgeous love, especially the dress."

"Oh thank you," Luna said, absentmindedly toying with a loose thread on the sleeve. "It's made from rumpleplank skins. I wanted Delphi to wear it, but she much prefers knorbilly wing clothing."

Hermione smiled, completely unfazed by her friend's belief in strange creatures. "Delphi's all ready?"

"I believe so," Luna said very seriously. "I consulted with the stars, and they confirmed that my little Oracle was ready to take one of the biggest steps in her life."

"You don't need stars to tell you that," a deep voice said. "Delphi knows exactly what she wants, and she knows what's good for her."

"Neville!" Hermione cried out, standing up and hugging the Hogwarts herbology professor. Even though his hair was grey and thinning, and he was getting a bit of a paunch thanks to the Hogwarts kitchen, Neville's confidence had continued to grow in leaps and bounds. He was now one of the loudest, most exciting, but still one of the kindest and smartest people that Hermione knew. "How are you?"

Neville laughed a great big booming laugh that seemed to fill the church. "Nervous, of course. But Oracle knows what she's doing."

"Shouldn't you be...you know, walking her down the aisle?" Hermione asked, smiling.

Neville grinned. "She needed a moment alone – or at least that's what she told me."

"You should probably go and get her dear," Luna said, tapping on Neville's arm lightly. "It would be just like her to be late for her own wedding."

Neville laughed again and kissed Luna on the cheek. "I'll be back in a moment, Lunabug."

Hermione smiled at the couple before sitting down once more, searching the crowd for signs of her husband and children. She felt a light tap on her shoulder.

"Mrs Granger?" the voice said timidly. "Hermione?"

Taking a moment to revel in the fact that she hadn't changed her last name, Hermione turned her head. She smiled when she saw Parvati Patil. "Hello Parvati," she said. "How are you?"

"Brilliant, brilliant," she said, blushing. The girl was obviously nervous, since she was fidgeting and avoiding Hermione's eyes.

"Parvati," Hermione said sternly. "If you have something to say, then for Merlin's sake say it!"

"Ron asked me to marry him," the girl blurted, her blush intensifying. "I...I said yes, but I just wanted to know that it was ok with you."

Hermione was silent for a moment. She had known that Ron had been living with Parvati for the past several years, but this was the first time she'd heard anything about a wedding. She found it very odd that Parvati was asking _her _for permission to marry her decidedly-ex-boyfriend, but Hermione respected her concern. They had been a very public couple, after all. "Do you love him?" Hermione asked Parvati.

"Yes," Parvati said, nodding vehemently. "With all of my heart."

"And he loves you back?" Hermione asked slowly.

"Yes," Parvati said. "I believe so."

It was then that Hermione noticed the ring Parvati was wearing; a simple, gold engagement ring. Obviously Ron had changed, and hopefully for the better. Hermione grinned. "You don't have to ask me for permission, Parvati," she said lightly. "As long as you love each other, go ahead and get married!"

Parvati was positively glowing when Hermione finished her statement. "Thank you so much Mrs Granger!"

The young girl positively leapt out of the pew behind Hermione and ran several rows back to where a tall, red-headed male was waiting. Parvati sat down and gave her fiancée a passionate kiss before starting a conversation with the witch beside her.

Hermione watched all this with a smile. When Ron met her eyes, he looked sad for a moment. Hermione waved and smiled, and Ron waved back. It wasn't much, but for both of them it was a signal that everything was ok.

"Mum! Mum! Mum! MumMumMum!" Trinity was positively bouncing on top of Hermione. "Mum guess what?"

"What?" Hermione asked, watching her husband sit down with Sean beside her.

"James said that he'd play quidditch with me! He said that with some practice this summer I'd make chaser next year for sure!"

"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And where did you find James?"

Trinity looked down at her shoes. "I just went through the doors, Mum," she mumbled.

Hermione's second eyebrow shot up to join her first. "I assume you already reprimanded her for bursting in on the groom's preparations?" she asked Draco.

"Of course," Draco nodded. "She apologized profusely to everyone."

"Good," Hermione said, staring at her daughter until the mischievous little girl sat down and stopped squirming.

"Look Mummy, it's starting!" Sean called out, and indeed the room was growing quiet and James was walking to the altar with Albus as his best man.

A lovely, ethereal tune started playing, and the doors swung open to reveal Delphi Longbottom, dressed in a stunning gown that did seem to be comprised of wings. "She's beautiful Mum," Trinity breathed, all her embarrassment forgotten. "I want a dress like that when I marry."

"That won't be for a while, pumpkin," Hermione said, placing her hand on her child's shoulder. "We'll see."

Trinity smiled, and watched Delphi's progress down the aisle. Draco squeezed Hermione's hand. "Remember when that was us?" Draco whispered. "What a scandal. All those reporters."

Hermione smiled, and rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "I liked living in France though, when we were waiting out the storm. We should go back."

Draco nodded. "We should. But we have the rest of our lives to make that decision."

Hermione smiled. Yes they did.

THE END

A/N: So...that's it! It's been an amazing experience writing this fiction, and I really appreciate your support! Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, or followed _Therapy_, but particular thanks to NazChick for reviewing every chapter. :) I don't think I'll write a sequel to _Therapy_ (everything's wrapped up pretty nicely right now, haha), but I have a few other fic ideas floating around in my head. :) Thanks again, everyone! You've all been amazing! ~sneakyslytherin


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